


We Can Stay

by byoomgothegunboi



Series: The Washington Heights Project [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: :), And idk what I'm doing, But only if you want to - Freeform, F/F, F/M, M/M, Probably More - Freeform, and then don't update the tags, because tagging is tedious, i kinda just add them in the story, ok just read this and get it, seriously anyone who tags effectively deserves a medal, wow this is going nowhere fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-01-10 03:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12289890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byoomgothegunboi/pseuds/byoomgothegunboi
Summary: Leaving is easy, young man. Staying is harder.Usnavi de la Vega's in it for the long run in Washington Heights, for better and for worse. While he's staying, he may as well get some of his questions answered.Updates weekly. Probably.





	1. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHO'S BA-AAACK
> 
> Okay, first things first, I know it might be a little soon to talk about the stuff I talk about here... you'll see what I mean when you read it. I apologize if it hits close to home for some people, but I wrote this before current events and couldn't really change it much because it's important to the plot. But Puerto Rico, other Caribbean Islands, estamos contigo. <3
> 
> Also, in here, Sonny's 16 going on 17. Even though official casting says he's 15. Sue me.
> 
> Okay with that out of the way, here we go, round 2!!

Summer in Washington Heights could be described in three words: heat, humidity, and hurricanes.

By and large, Usnavi could deal with heat and humidity. Even on days like these when the blackout meant he couldn’t blast the AC, he could employ Sonny to fan him with their little paper fan in exchange for anything he wanted from the store (usually a Champagne Cola or something). If not, he could go barter with the piraguero for a cherry piragua and cool off in the shade of their awning. And now, he supposed, he could go buy an electric generator or something, seeing as he could afford it with all the lottery winnings, and run a couple fans and his (well, mostly Sonny’s) old slushie machine.

But by the Mother of all that is holy, Usnavi _hated_ hurricanes.

He hadn’t even experienced a particularly BAD one, just a few category 1’s and tropical storms. It wasn’t the weather that bothered him, anyway. For some reason, when the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was howling past his windows, another storm was pounding at his eyebrow. And that storm was a grade-A, category 5 hurricane.

Not only did it hurt, but it made him inexplicably terrified. He didn’t know if he’d seen a storm before in his past or what, but the only way he could ever get through them in New York was if he huddled close to Abuela Claudia’s side as she held him tightly and stroked his hair.

And now…

A small whimper involuntarily escaped his lips as an article about hurricane preparedness came up in the newspaper he was flipping through. That in itself made his head pound and he brought a hand to his eyebrow as he read through the emergency supplies.

“Something wrong, ‘Navi?” a voice asked, and he jumped and turned to see Sonny coming through the back, back from ‘sorting the trash’ way earlier than usual. Which, he reasoned, was not a particularly bad thing.

“No,” he replied quickly. Sonny used to hate storms when he was little, too, even though the fear might’ve just been a result of seeing Usnavi in his own irrational terror. In any case, he didn’t want to worry the kid.

Sonny frowned. “You sure? You’re rubbin’ your eyebrow again.”

Usnavi put his hand down quickly and it landed on the counter with a BANG. Sonny raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Usnavi assured him, trying for a convincing smile. “Hey, you’re back a little early, huh?”

Sonny flushed pink and stared at his shoes. Which was not a promising sign. “I, uh, well, I’m an efficient worker.”

“Literally anyone who has ever stepped foot in this bodega can tell you that’s bull.”

“I’m not playin’! I was actually sorting the trash this time. Go and check if you want. I’m gonna sweep the floors now.”

There was only one reason Sonny would ever be doing voluntary labor. Usnavi crossed his arms and gave his little cousin the best Daniela-face he could muster. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Woah, what?" Sonny asked innocently, eyes wide. "What makes you think I _want_ something? Can’t I do tasks that better this bodega out of a sense of civic duty and a deep love and respect for my older cousin?”

Usnavi didn’t even bother responding.

Sonny sighed and set the broom against the wall. “Okay, okay. I _do_ have a teeeeeny favor to ask…”

“What is it?”

“Well, I got Pete a commission over at a sandwich place up on 189th?”

“Okay…”

“And he wants to work on it tomorrow.”

“So you’re asking me if you can skip your work here to go with him.”

Sonny hesitated and looked down, suddenly finding a great interest in his fingernails.

“Well… no. When he goes, he should be done by eight-ish, so if I went I could be back by my shift–”

“Which starts at seven?” Usnavi snorted.

“Well I was gonna leave early–”

“Fine, you can go. Just– if you’re gonna leave the apartment super early, make sure you grab something to eat.”

Sonny still didn’t look up, examining his thumbnail very closely.

“Well, you see, that’s the thing.”

“What?”

“Pete wants to get outta here by three thirty, four-ish, so it might be easier if…” Sonny drifted off, still not meeting Usnavi’s eyes.

“If…?” the older cousin prompted suspiciously.

Sonny took a deep breath. “If I just spent the night there?” He said it so quickly it came out as “ifijustspentthenightthere?” and at the words he flushed pinker and looked up nervously.

Usnavi shook his head so vigorously that he could feel his ears flopping against his head. It was partly in response to his question and partly to shake away an image of what things Sonny and Pete could do alone, in Pete’s apartment, at night.

It had been three days since Sonny had announced their relationship. Usnavi liked to think he took it better than anyone had expected– he _didn’t_ chase them out of the bodega and skin them both alive. Now, to be clear, he loved Sonny, and that would always hold true regardless of who he chose to date. He just wanted the kid to be happy.

But he also wanted the kid to retain his innocence for just a bit longer.

“Absolutely not.”

Once the subject was out in the open, Sonny stopped wringing his hands together and stared exasperatedly at his older cousin. “C’mon, cuz, would you rather have me wake you up at THREE-THIRTY IN THE M–”

“YES! At least I’ll get _some_ sleep, instead of staying up all night wondering what… euuuugh,” Usnavi shook his head again. “Absolutely not.”

“‘Navi, if we gotta wake up super early, then we’re not gonna DO any–”

“LALALALALALA–” Usnavi squeezed his eyes shut and shoved his fingers in his ears.

“And besides, Pete doesn’t let us do anything anyway since I’m still sixteen–”

“LALALALALALALA!” Usnavi yelled even louder, earning a few stares from the customers browsing the aisles.

Sonny sighed, accepting defeat. He turned his heel, grabbed the broom and stomped off. After sensing he’d walked away, Usnavi opened his eyes, removed his fingers from his ears and watched his younger cousin sweep the floor rather aggressively.

A little part of him wondered if maybe he was being a little irrational. Sony had some good points. A responsible person wouldn’t bother doing anything stupid in that sort of situation, right? But then again, Sonny and Pete weren’t exactly the kind of people that came to mind when he pictured responsibility. Sonny had come on time to _maybe_ three of his shifts over the course of the entire summer. And Pete, well...

Just four days ago, Usnavi wouldn’t have trusted Pete to be within fifty miles of his younger cousin. It was STILL hard to convince himself that allowing them to be together (as in, within arms’ length, much less actually _dating_ ) was okay, but after Daniela had told him what Pete had done for Sonny the night of the blackout, he’d reluctantly accepted it. Plus, out of nowhere, he had done that amazing memorial of Abuela Claudia on the bodega grate. Maybe he didn’t know the vandal as well as he thought he did. After all, he was positive that Sonny's and his little relationship wouldn't even last this long, but here they were almost a week in and not only was Sonny happier than he'd ever seen, but Pete hadn't pissed him off once. Yet.

Maybe he wasn’t giving Sonny enough credit, either. Sure, he showed up late to every shift and basically did no work the entire day. But when he was really interested in something, he did it pretty well. He thought of the bodega fridge, which Sonny had fixed mere hours after being promised free drinks. He thought of the mural again, which Sonny had commissioned Pete to do with his own spending money. He thought of the metal-box-and-calculator system that Sonny had put into place after the cash register was stolen and he realized that he hated mental math. Sonny didn’t bother waking up in time to make his seven o’clock shift, but how he was ready to wake up at three-thirty for Pete.

As Usnavi watched, Sonny laid his broom against the wall and leaned out of the window frame, his hands on a metal sill. When the bodega’s glass had shattered that first night of the blackout, Pete and Sonny had smashed out the rest of the shards and swept it all up so that only one glass pane remained, the one above the door. They had also uncovered the old, grimy gas range and wiped it down so that Usnavi could still make coffee.

 _Maybe,_ he thought, _they deserve a chance._

 _Besides,_ he mentally added, _you’re the COOL cousin. What would the COOL cousin do?_

“Sonny?”

He didn’t turn from the window, looking out at the barrio.

“Yeah?”

“You gotta eat dinner and shower and get ready and all that stuff at our place.”

He turned, confused.

“What?”

“But after that, you can go.”

After a moment of realization, his little cousin’s eyes widened and his face broke into a grin.

“F’real?”

Usnavi couldn’t help but smile at how happy Sonny looked.

“Yeah.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Yes?” Usnavi laughed. “Now get back to work before I change my mind.”

Instead of picking up the broom, Sonny ran at Usnavi and smashed him in a bear hug. “Thank you!” he half-screamed, half whispered into his ear. Usnavi chuckled as he hugged back.

“Hey, I’m giving you permission to _sleep_ there, that’s it. If I hear about anything else happening, so help me, you ain’t leaving this bodega for the rest of the summer.”

Sonny laughed, breaking away, and crossed his heart with a finger. “ _Te lo prometo_.”

As if on cue, the bodega bell chimed and Pete walked through the door. He carried his usual backpack with the odd addition of a small yellow radio in one hand. It was much smaller than his regular big-ass boombox and had an odd handle sticking out of one side.

“Pete!” Sonny exclaimed, running back to give him a bear hug as well. The height difference between them meant Usnavi could clearly see the grin light up Pete’s face when he was embraced.

“Hey, Sonshine. Hullo, Usnavi.”

“Hi, Pete.”

Sonny stepped back. “Yo, you’re not gonna believe this, but Usnavi’s letting me stay the night,” he said, practically bouncing on his toes. Pete’s smile faltered.

“Right. Sonny, I think we gotta work on the thing another day.”

Sonny stopped bouncing. “How come?”

Instead of answering, Pete sighed, lifted up the little yellow radio and began to crank the handle sticking out of the side. After a few seconds, a voice crackled over the speakers.

“–experts say that the tropical storm will NOT lose strength over the Atlantic coast, and will be hitting this area at around 2 A.M. tomorrow morning. For some residents in upper Manhattan, this is the second bit of bad news, as the power has STILL not been completely restored to all neighborhoods. And now to Chris with the traffic.”

The voice cut out. Or maybe Usnavi just couldn’t hear it anymore over the pounding in his head.

“Shit, Pete, turn it off! Usnavi, are you okay?” he heard Sonny say, but his eyes were shut tight. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from passing out.

“What’s goin’ on?” Pete’s voice could barely be discerned over the roaring in his ears. He shook his head despite the splitting pain pounding inside of it.

“I’m… I’m fine, I just need some Advil,” he managed weakly.

“What is it, your headache?”

Usnavi nodded, still squeezing his eyes shut. He was gripping the counter so hard that a cramp was starting in his palm, but if he didn’t hold something then everyone would see how badly his hands were shaking. A faint, cool breeze wafted in from the wide-open window frame, hinting ominously at the rain to come. He shivered and the crackly voice echoed in his head.

_The tropical storm will NOT lose strength over the Atlantic Coast, and will be hitting this area around 2 A.M. tomorrow morning._

A storm was coming.

A storm was coming and he would be caught alone in the rain.

_Alone in the rain, reaching out for a hand that slipped away, screaming as a murky face drifted out of sight and was sucked under by a wave of water and silt and houses ripped from their foundations–_

“Usnavi! USNAVI!” his eyes jolted open as he felt two hands on his shoulders, holding fast as he felt himself sway back and forth. He focused on Sonny’s worried face in front of him. Pete stood behind Sonny, looking rather alarmed.

“Are you okay? Can you hear me?” he asked, shaking him a little. Usnavi swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. I just–” he sipped from the water cup Pete handed him– “I just got a really bad headache.”

“That looked like more than a headache. Your hands are shaking,” Sonny observed.

Usnavi looked down at his still-quivering hands. His knuckles were white from holding on to the counter so hard. His face probably looked just as pale, too, if how he felt was any indication. Still, there was no reason to worry his cousin. “Really, I’m fine,” he lied, holding out his palms. “See? The shaking’s pretty much gone now.”

He tried for a convincing grin, but it probably came out more like a grimace, if Sonny and Pete’s unconvinced faces were anything to go by.

“Anyway, back to business,” he continued, clapping his hands together. He stepped toward Pete, trying to ignore the shaking in his knees. “Sonny can stay with you tonight, but he’s gonna eat and shower and stuff at home. And then he’s gonna _sleep_ , you hear me?” He poked a finger at Pete’s chest. It would’ve been an intimidating gesture if Usnavi hadn’t been shorter than him and if his voice hadn’t been so shaky.

Pete stepped back anyway. “Are you sure?” Sonny asked, looking between the two of them. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight instead?”

Usnavi shook his head. Of all the bad things that could happen that night, Sonny seeing him as a cowering, shivering mess was near the top of the list. That would probably mess the kid up more than one night with Pete ever could.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be sleeping, anyway. I promised you that you could go, and you promised me that you would behave. I trust you both, so I’m keeping my word.”

Sonny looked at Pete. Pete looked at Sonny. Usnavi looked at the both of them. The both of them turned and looked at Usnavi.

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Sonny finally spoke up, earning a nervous laugh from Pete.

Usnavi walked past the two of them to the counter to check out a waiting customer, and he didn’t reply until she was gone. In truth, he was _far_ from okay. The night was going to be hell. But how was he going to tell his little cousin that, especially when he was so happy? So when he finally turned and faced them, all he said was: “If you’re even ONE minute late to work tomorrow, you ain’t ever going over there again.”

Sonny looked up at Pete, who gave a small smile and squeezed his hand. His little cousin grinned as soon as Pete’s fingers touched his.

“Thanks, cuz. Pouring rain or not, I’ll be here, crack of dawn.” With his unoccupied hand he saluted his older cousin. Usnavi laughed.

“You’ve stalled long enough. Get back to work.”

Pete bent down to remove Sonny’s cap and press a kiss to his hair.

“You heard the boss. Get to work, Sonny,” he said, ruffling it and shoving the hat back down on his head.

“Oh, fuck off!” Sonny shot back, but was hard to take him seriously with such a wide grin on his face and his cap slightly crooked on his hair. In any case, Pete was out the door before the remark, anyway.

Sonny sighed as he watched him go, fixing his cap and staring at the door. Whatever he was thinking was finally interrupted when Usnavi spoke up.

“You guys are gross.”

Sonny turned around, with not a trace of shame on his face. Instead, he reached for the counter, grabbed the radio, and fiddled with it until an upbeat latino song floated through the speakers. He then skipped to the wall and grabbed his broom.

“You’re just jealous cuz I got game.”

“I never–”

“How many people have you successfully asked on a date?”

“One–”

“Vanessa doesn’t count. I asked her for you. Sonny two, Usnavi zero.” With that, he practically waltzed away with the broom, dancing to the radio and grinning stupidly.

Usnavi couldn’t help but smile, too. After all, he should enjoy Sonny’s ridiculous sweep-dance while he still could. He tried to bottle the feeling and save it in the back of his mind. He tried to remember the feeling of all his friends hanging out in the bodega, laughing and talking and eating glass-shard-impaled bags of chips. He tried to remember Abuela Claudia, caressing the top of his head like she always did.

Maybe he could bottle up all those feelings and then open them up then the storm hit.

And then he would be fine.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank. Y'all. So. Much. For. Reading. Seriously, it means a lot. I love you all.
> 
> Ch. 2 Sneak Peek: I don't have an excerpt but a certain someone finally makes a reappearance ;)


	2. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da-dada-DAAAA! The stranger returns!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for a panic attack. If it's a bit much, skip to after the ~~~.
> 
> Love y'all :)

He was NOT fine.

As soon as the first crack of thunder boomed, the happy memories vanished and all Usnavi could register was a raging, blinding terror. Terror and pain.

He yelped and grabbed his forehead as the pounding, pulsing pain continued. Its intensity had strengthened steadily with the rain: at first, it ached a little as he waved Sonny off into the light drizzle, and Pete grabbed his hand to lead him away. The faint throbbing began as he looked out his window and tiny droplets rolled past. Then, it grew stronger as he blew out his candle and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over his head. Outside he heard fat droplets pounding insistently on the roofs and sidewalks and streets, and he tried desperately to remember the happy times earlier that day and drift off to sleep. Needless to say, it hadn’t worked very well.

Usnavi didn’t know what time it was when thunder finally struck and the beating rain became a torrential downpour, only that he’d been awake for quite a while and the air under his blanket was getting quite stale. He curled his knees up to his chest and clutched his head tightly as the wind howled past his window outside. He squeezed his eyes shut, hugged his knees tight, rocked back and forth frenetically, but none of it to any avail. There was nothing to see, nothing to hold on to but black, dark, a proliferating oblivion. The wind swirled and the rain beat down and his head pounded and there was no light, no faces, no _air, where did the air go_ , he kicked out desperately but there was only a suffocating death around him, his heart was racing fast, too fast, wetness stained his cheeks, he kicked and only fell deeper and deeper into the swirling, howling abyss, there was nothing, he was _drowning, he had to get out of there_ –

With a gasp, Usnavi kicked the blanket and his face met the cold air of the apartment. It stung his cheeks and he stood up, stumbling through his room. The world was still oppressively and impossibly dark.

_There is nothing, I’m dying–_

He found himself stumbling forward, bumping past a doorframe and into a room, gasping for breath and choking back sobs. His heart would burst any minute now. The rain roared on.

_I’m drowning, the world is drowning–_

He yanked his door open and stumbled out into the hallway, which was even darker somehow. Still, he could hear the wind howl past, sucking the air from his lungs.

_The ground, the world, it’s falling away, nothing under my feet–_

He didn’t know how he managed to make it down the stairs and into the hallway but he pushed the building doors open with one gasping breath and stumbled into the rain. A single coherent thought came to him in the shock of cold water on his face.

_I have to get out of here._

He ran.

He stumbled through the torrent of wind and water, and each step brought new pain to his entire being. He ran with one hand clutching his head and one out in front of him, blindly fumbling for something, _anything_ to latch onto. Each flash of lightning and peal of thunder brought his breath to short gasps again as he yelped and stumbled on. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know if he was moving at all.

The faint moonlight fell further and further as he stumbled through the streets, gasping for breath and collapsing once in a while when lightning flashes buckled his knees. The second his palms splashed the puddles on the street, though, he was up again. There was no stopping. Stopping meant drowning in black. The world was dissolving all around him and the wind howled a warning. Prickles at the back of his head grew more and more painful and black spots clouded whatever vision he still had. He gritted his teeth and gripped his head harder, and it pounded in protest. He could not slip away, he had to hold on. But there was nothing to hold on to– there was black, there was water, there was the howling wind, there were cracks of thunder, there was a flash of lightning and there–

There was a hand.

There was a hand illuminated by the lightning, and when the light receded Usnavi could still make out its faint form in the moonlight. It was reaching out to him, palm up, fingers outstretched, and he grabbed it.

The effect was instantaneous. The pounding on his eyebrow ceased to a tangible silence. His chest, which was slowly being constricted by the resonance of his hammering heart, had space for breath again. The street was suddenly underneath his feet. He wouldn’t get swept away if he held onto that hand.

And so he did. He held onto it as he felt his shaking knees give out under him and his legs, burning from however long he had been running, brought him to the concrete. He held on as he felt another hand on his chest, keeping his pounding heart from jumping out. He didn’t dare let go as he felt himself moving, black spots darker than the black night filled his vision, and he collapsed into the dark.

~~~

Hey, hey, shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he heard as he opened his eyes, breathing hard. He felt relatively calm, considering the circumstances, but whoever was talking to him said the words like he was a frightened animal or something. _Did I lash out in my unconsciousness?_ Usnavi thought uneasily. It was entirely possible, he had dreamt he was–

Every memory or worry about what had happened flew out of his head as he looked up to the source of the voice.

It was _him._

With everything that had happened over the past week, he hadn’t had much time to think about the oddly familiar stranger he had seen in his store, but his face jumped out at him like he’d seen the same one every day of his life.

He was even more beautiful up close.

There were freckles EVERYWHERE on him, for starters. They were splattered across his forehead and dusted his tanned cheeks with dark brown. They were splashed across his slightly crooked nose and were even visible underneath his eyebrows. They peppered his lips and trailed down his neck, disappearing at the collar of his rain-soaked shirt. His wide eyes were a brilliant green with tiny flecks of gold, and they were trained on _him_ , darting back and forth quickly as if he were searching for something in Usnavi’s own eyes. He looked vaguely… confused?

_Wait._

Usnavi ran through the rain, grabbed his hand, collapsed, and was now full-on staring at him. No wonder he was confused.

He cleared his throat self-consciously and mumbled a soft “sorry,” to which the stranger only replied by smiling a little and backing up to give him space. Usnavi propped himself up on his elbows, averting his eyes and taking in his surroundings instead. He was lying on a couch in what appeared to be a living room. To his left, past the damp, curly hair of the man, was a camping lantern sitting on a rough, wooden coffee table. One hung on the ceiling above him, too, like the barrio version of a crystal chandelier.

“Are you feelin’ alright?” the stranger spoke up, and Usnavi’s eyes darted back to him. He had dropped down to sit on his ankles, eyes level with his own. A curly brown mane of hair, darkened with water, framed his face.

“After you passed out, I, ah, took you to my apartment. You know, to get you outta the rain. I just put you on the couch when you kinda–” he flailed his arms in what Usnavi assumed was an imitation of him. The motion caused his hair to shake and water droplets to fling everywhere. Usnavi wiped one off his cheek.

“Sorry ‘bout that, I was just about to go an’ get some towels. I’ll be right on back. You won’t… you’ll be okay, right?”

There seemed to be just a hint of an accent in his voice, but Usnavi couldn’t place it. He nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay now. Thanks.” His tone was shakier than he would have liked.

“Okay. Be right back.”

He seemed to move to touch Usnavi’s arm, but he must’ve thought better of it, because he pushed himself up and walked out of the room.

Usnavi sat up on the couch as he left, shivering a little as his soaked shirt clung to his skin. His head was throbbing a little and he still felt a little shaky, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as before. Maybe it was the light, or the safety of an apartment, or the oddly familiar scent of cocoa and pastry dough, but the panic wasn't coming back like it usually did.

He allowed himself to turn to take in more of the room, trying to distract himself from the howling wind outside. Past the coffee table was a small TV sitting on top of a bookshelf, which was crammed with various novels, notebooks and loose sheets of paper. In a frame on the wall was a picture of a weird-looking turtle. A collage frame on the opposite wall of the room was full of people he couldn’t quite make out from his spot on the couch. It was surrounded by various illustrations of people and turtles (what was with all the turtles?) and photos and–

It was _Usnavi_.

Thunder cracked and he yelped, grabbing at his eyebrow as a sudden jolt of pain struck it. His eyes squeezed shut, but the image had been seared into his eyelids. A picture of _him_ was on this man’s wall. The face was a little thinner, the hair was longer, but it was undeniably Usnavi in a long blue coat and black combat boots.

“Shit, sorry, I’m here!” The stranger yelled from somewhere, and Usnavi heard footsteps thumping toward him. Then there was a towel around him, a body plopping down next to him on the couch, and then a soft hand on his arm. Immediately, the pounding died down again. Usnavi could open his eyes, still shivering, and look at the man.

“Th-thank you,” he finally stuttered out. The man smiled gently.

“Don’t mention it. Not a fan of storms, huh?”

He shook his head. “I really don’t know why.”

The searching look was back in those brilliant green eyes as the man frowned. Usnavi felt his cheeks growing hot under his gaze. Finally, he had to speak up.

“Why am I on your wall?”

The man looked at the wall quickly and back, biting his hip. “Oh. Ah… I promise it’s not as creepy as it looks. It’s, well… do I, um… do you know who I am?” He finally finished, looking at Usnavi anxiously.

“I don’t think so?” Everything in him screamed that that was a lie, but what else could he have said? ‘I do know you, and I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Except, I don’t know who you are or what your name is or how I know you?’ Just saying no was simpler, even though it made the man frown and give him that searching look again, and– _oh no,_ Usnavi thought, _have I been staring at him AGAIN?_

He cleared his throat awkwardly and looked down to play with the hem of his towel, and when he did, the man spoke up.

“Sorry. Where are my manners?” He shifted on the couch and stuck a hand out for Usnavi to shake.

“I’m John. John Laurens.”

“Usnavi de la Vega,” Usnavi replied after a moment of searching his memory, taking his hand. Even his name sounded familiar, like he was supposed to know that.

“U-snah-vee.” John let the name roll off his tongue. “Interesting.” His eyes were back on Usnavi’s and then he looked at his hands again.

“Sorry if the picture freaked you out a little. It’s actually a picture of my friend. It’s– his name was Alexander.”

There was that name again. _Alexander._ Usnavi looked back at the drawing of the man, and _NO,_ his mind insisted, _THAT IS ME._

“So that’s why you called me Alexander that one time at my store,” Usnavi wondered aloud.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. And sorry if I’ve been starin’ at you, but you look an awful lot like him. Alexander, I mean.”

“Who is he?”

“He was my best friend a while back. We– we met in the army a long time ago, and he was basically my work-husband the whole time through. And then President Washington– before he was president, he was our general at the time– left after the war to go into politics, and he took on Alex as his secretary of the treasury while I went home to train the South Carolinian militia. That’s where I’m from, South Carolina, so I stayed with my dad after the militia was trained. We wrote letters all the time, since he never had a phone, but then one day, he just… stopped. And I don’t know why.”

“And you never heard from him after that?”

“Not personally, no. The last I heard of him was when he was all over the news a while back. After the _disaster_ that was the Adams Administration, the new President-elect Jefferson– who was apparently a political enemy of his– kidnapped Alex and killed his wife and son. After they got his ransom money, they–”

John’s voice broke and he turned back around, staring at the lamp hanging from the ceiling. Usnavi watched as the lamp lights illuminated his shining eyes until John squeezed them shut and shook his head.

“God, I’m sorry. I’m breakin’ down in front of a stranger. You must think I’m crazy or something. It’s just… when I look at you, I see HIM. I used to tell him everything, all the time, and now _you’re_ here, and there’s so much to say, and it’s just… I’m sorry.”

Usnavi didn’t respond. He was too busy mulling over the story. He didn’t know it; in fact, he was sure he’d never heard it before. But for some reason it seemed very, very familiar. Like John, and like Benny, and like that picture hanging on the wall behind them. And for some reason, he knew exactly how the story ended, and he felt an unexplainable sense of dread as he thought about it.

“So they killed him?”

“Yeah. Four years ago.”

He froze.

_Four years ago._

_He woke up in a white bed to the steady beeping of a heart rate monitor. The only other thing he could hear was an incoherent mumbling from some people out of sight on one side of the room. Cold. He was cold. An IV tube was flooding his veins with cold liquid. He shivered, and upon sitting up, realized that he’d never seen the place before. It resembled a hospital room, but those were more– no, never mind. He couldn’t remember being to a hospital at all. Was that odd? That in all his years of life, he didn’t know what a–_

_Wait. How old was he?_

_Actually, no, more comprehensive question– WHO was he?_

_And why didn’t he know?_

_“You’re Usnavi,” they had all told him. “You’re Usnavi de la Vega. You and your parents all got sick, that’s them over there.”_

_His parents had died a couple days later. He hadn’t even gotten to talk to them. All the communication he’d had was eavesdropping on their mostly mumbled conversations.  
Whether or not they were his real parents, or even whether Usnavi was his real name, he really didn’t know. He remembered none of it. But what else did he have? So he nodded and went along._

That was exactly four years ago.

“Can I–” Usnavi gestured to the wall of photos.

“Oh, sure,” John replied, pushing himself off the couch, and Usnavi did the same. As he neared the portraits, he realized that the picture of Alexander wasn’t even a picture– it was a _drawing_.

“Did you draw this?” he asked John, who nodded sheepishly.

“I did, after he died. It’s how I remember him the best.”

“This is… incredible.”

“Nah, it was just… a sketch.”

“Sketch, my ass. How’d you learn to draw like that?”

“I dunno. I was in South Carolina when I figured out I could. My pops found a turtle and I decided to draw it. As you can probably tell, I’m kinda fond of ‘em.”

Usnavi chuckled, looking at each of the approximately twelve turtle drawings on the wall. His eyes also glanced over the little polaroid photos and mini-sketches interspersed between them. Several faces caught his eye.

“Who are these?” He asked, pointing to them. They, too, had that familiar look to them, like he knew them each personally.

“Those were our friends,” John replied, pointing them all out as he spoke. “Alexander and me, I mean. There’s Lafayette, and Hercules.” A tall, thin man in an elegant topknot stood with an arm draped delicately over a much burlier dude wearing a beanie and a sharp blue coat. Both held up mugs of beer, and John was smushed between them, laughing. “Lafayette was another aide of General Washington with us. He has this long-ass French name, ‘cause he’s from France and all. In order to stay in the country he had to serve in the military or somethin’ like that. After the war he had to go back to France. We used to text and stuff all the time, but just like with Alex, one day he just stopped. Out of nowhere. And Hercules–” he gestured to the thick dude that seemed to be in a lot of the pictures– “he fought with us, I don’t know exactly what his rank was, he never told us, but he was Washington’s tailor on the side. Or somebody’s tailor. The man makes some pretty nice-ass stuff. He made that– and that– and that–”

“Who’s she?” Usnavi interrupted. The third article of clothing John had pointed to was a blue gown belonging to a woman smiling radiantly at the camera. Her long black curtain of hair shimmered behind her as if she had just been laughing. On one side of her was another woman in a pink gown and on the other side, partially cut off, a shorter girl in a yellow dress. The woman in the middle seemed to shine, as if her smile alone was one of the lamps hanging in John’s living room.

“Funny you noticed her. That’s Eliza Schuyler,” John answered, looking at the image fondly. “Alexander’s wife. The absolute nicest woman that has ever walked on the face of the Earth. We met at a winter’s ball held by her father for Washington and his aides and from that moment to the time that she was… you know–” John sort of shrugged sadly and made a little gun gesture with his fingers– “I never saw her get angry, not even once. Well... I heard she got pretty pissed about that whole Reynolds scandal– did you hear about that?”

Usnavi shook his head, but an uncomfortable feeling in his gut told him otherwise.

“Oh. From what I could gather, Alexander lost all sense for, like, a month and cheated on Eliza with this Maria Reynolds chick. Then later he lost even MORE sense and published an entire article about the whole affair. Called it the Reynolds Pamphlet. You must’ve at least seen it, it was all over the news for, like, a week. It was the only way, at the time, that I knew he still existed at all. But anyway,” John continued, shaking his head, “Eliza is– was– an angel. She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

“She sounds amazing.” Usnavi didn’t even know her and he STILL felt pain looking at her picture.

“Who’re the other girls?”

“Her sisters. That one’s Angelica,” John said, pointing to the tall girl in the pink dress. “The smartest girl I’ve ever met. Literally nothing gets past her. She is not to be fucked with. I heard she got married, went to London, and then left the guy when he refused to join some protest there. Sounds exactly like her. And that’s–” John pointed to the disembodied yellow dress– “half of Peggy, their little sister. She was still in college when we met, and oh, my god, she’s the funniest person I’ve ever known. At Alexander’s wedding we sat on the side and she roasted every single person who walked past.” John chuckled at the memory. “I don’t really know what happened to her after I left for South Carolina. It’d be interestin’ to see what she’s up to now.”

“You guys didn’t stay in touch, either?” Usnavi looked back at John and saw his face darken.

“No. None of us did. A couple months after I moved, my dad– the God-fearin’ Republican Senator he is– made me delete all my internet accounts: e-mail, AOL, everything, and after that everyone just stopped textin’ me all at once. It’s like I was just– cut off. Like they suddenly all got mad at me for somethin’.”

“Why would they be mad at you?”

He shook his head resignedly. “I don’t know. They didn’t give me a reason.”

Usnavi looked back at all the pictures, of Angelica and Peggy and Lafayette and Hercules and the beautiful girl Eliza. All of them– _every single one of them_ – looked SO familiar, and so did John. He looked back at the drawing of this Alexander man. Was he, perhaps, a brother? Did he have siblings that died with his parents when they all got sick? But then, why didn’t anyone tell him about Alexander?

A low roll of thunder rumbled and Usnavi shivered, pulling the towel tighter around his body. His heart was racing and the tiniest of pains was beginning to pound at his head again.  
John jumped. “I’m so sorry! I totally forgot you’re still drippin’ in your clothes. You might wanna change into somethin’ warmer. Do you wanna use my clothes?”

“I-if you don’t mind,” Usnavi nodded, realizing just as John said it that his teeth were, in fact, chattering.

“‘Course not.” John paused. “Why don’t you come with me so the thunder doesn’t freak you out again?”

_Goddammit,_ Usnavi thought ashamedly. _Is that what he thinks? That i’m a weak little kid who can’t handle a bit of thunder? Well, granted, he’s not WRONG, per se, but– JESUS!_ He jumped at a sudden wind rattling the window.

That seemed to answer John’s question. “Here, follow me.” He grinned sympathetically before turning and leading the way down a hallway. Usnavi followed him into a room he could only describe as boxy. Cardboard boxes were stacked high, blocking the windows and making it even darker, if possible. The only light to see by was the little flashlight coming from the phone John had pulled out.

“Sorry ‘bout all this,” he said, his silhouette gesturing sheepishly at all the boxes. “I’m not usually expectin’ company, so I didn’t unpack much since I moved here. But the clothes are… somewhere… ah, here we go!” He had to put down his phone to remove a stack of boxes and threw them on his bed.

“You moved?” Usnavi asked as John opened a box and began to rummage through it. That would explain why Usnavi had never come across him before. At least, in lucid memory.  
“Yeah, about two weeks ago. My dad moved into one o’ them retirement hospices for the sick and the house went to my sister. I had no reason to stay, so I moved back to the next closest thing I ever had to a home. Which happens to be here, where I met Alex and Hercules and Lafayette and all them before the war. Here you go,” he replied, turning and holding out a bundle of clothes.

The light from his phone cast a funny shadow across his face when he grinned. This was the first moment Usnavi realized that he’d backed himself into a corner of the room and was holding the blanket tightly around him to block out the thrum of rain outside. He snapped out of his stance, mentally scolding himself for being so childish, and took the clothes gratefully.

“You can change in your lil’ corner, I won’t look,” John said, grinning again. Despite himself, Usnavi smiled back before turning around.

Upon changing, Usnavi whirled around and was about to indicate he was finished before he stopped short and his voice flew away. All his thoughts were replaced with a rather embarrassing mantra of _OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD_ because there was JOHN, standing there illuminated faintly by his phone light. Without a shirt.

It certainly wasn’t Usnavi’s _intention_ to get all freaked out about it, and he definitely didn’t appreciate the fact, but for some reason he just couldn’t think about anything else. John was facing the other way, thank god, rummaging through another cardboard box. The motions made the muscles on his back move (how can backs have that many muscles?) and cast shadows across itself. And as embarrassed as he was, Usnavi couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even in the near-darkness, the massive conglomeration of freckles on his expanse of skin was obviously evident, and Usnavi was increasingly grateful for the darkness as he felt a definite redness rising in his cheeks. 

So of course, it was just his luck that whoever ran the city’s electricity decided to turn it back on that very second.

The lights didn’t switch on in the room, but the simultaneous beeping and clicking as well as the flickering of the streetlights outside indicated the obvious switch and John immediately straightened and pulled a shirt on over his head.

“Finally!” he exclaimed. “Usnavi, you good yet?”

“Y-yeah,” he managed, clearing his throat.

John whirled around and Usnavi occupied himself by staring out the window at the now-lit streetlights.

“It’s about damn time. How ‘bout we–” there was a flick of a light switch and the incandescent glow of an actual light bulb came to life– “THERE we go!”

Usnavi blinked a couple times, adjusting to the new light, then flicked his eyes back and threw a shaky grin at John, who was watching him expectantly. “Does that help? With the storm an’ stuff? I know Alexander always did better when he could actually see.”

“What?”

“Oh, right. He was a real mess in storms, too. He lost nearly everything in a hurricane when he was real young so the rain always triggered some PTSD or somethin’.”

So this strange man not only looked exactly like him, had friends that all looked eerily familiar, but he was also irrationally (or, well, in his case, rationally) afraid of thunderstorms.

_What the HELL was going on?_

John was still staring at him, with that same searching look in his eyes. Suddenly Usnavi realized why he looked at him like that. The similarity between the two of them was too uncanny to be a coincidence. Everything about this Alexander dude seemed to fit into the missing pieces of his own life, and vice versa. There was an explanation for everything, from the fear of storms to the familiar faces to how Alexander died exactly four years ago, the exact time that Usnavi couldn’t remember anything from.

John was staring at him with so much hope in those bright eyes because Usnavi held a clear connection to his best friend, and the impossibility of getting him back now seemed within reach. And nothing would make Usnavi happier to say how he felt– that he could be a long-lost twin brother, or maybe even a reincarnation of Alexander _himself_ – and watch John’s face light up into another brilliant smile. He opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, but then closed it.

“Y-yeah, it… it helps.”

John seemed to deflate when Usnavi looked down at the ground. He heard the man sigh and flop down on his bed, shuffling a few boxes.

“Good. At least you’re feelin’ better.”

Usnavi felt bad, but there was no way he could ever help him with this. No matter how closely related he might be to Alexander, he could never be that man that John dared to see in him. He could never be that brave, intelligent soldier with the heart that attracted all those wonderful people to be his friends and the charm to win him such a beautiful wife.

“I’m sorry. Y’know, about your friend-”

“No, _i’m_ sorry, Usnavi,” John interjected, seemingly understanding the meaning behind the apology. “I dunno why I even hope for anythin’. What’s done is done.”

Usnavi had to look up at the tone of disappointment in John’s voice, and his heart ached at how much his face had fallen. Such a forlorn look didn’t belong on a face as nice as his. Those eyes were only meant to be bright and fiery and full of life, and now they were torn and dull and it was all his stupid fault.

“I wanna help you,” he blurted, and John looked up at him, confused. “I don’t know how, or if, I’m related to Alexander, but I’m sorry I put you through his death again. It’s not fair.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault–”

“I know. But I still want to help you be happy. You _did_ save me from the storm, after all. I gotta repay you somehow.”

John gave a small smile and Usnavi felt the blush return to his cheeks as he returned it.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Then he stuck his hand out and John took it, shaking it and giggling a little.

“I’d like to be the first to officially welcome you to Washington Heights,” Usnavi declared. “Per my bodega rules, every new resident gets the pleasure of enjoying our world-famous _café con leche,_ one cup on the house.”

“I’d love to take you up on that offer tomorrow,” John responded, standing up. “But as of now, you’re in _my_ apartment, so per South Carolinian rules of hospitality, it’s _my_ duty to invite you for a hot cup o’ tea and… whatever else I can find in my fridge. Whadda ya say?”

Usnavi laughed and nodded, and John gestured down the hall.

When the wind died down and the torrential rain slowed to a drizzle, it was 6:37 in the morning and the two men were still sipping at cold dregs of tea and shoving forkfuls of microwaved chow mein into their mouths.

And Usnavi’s headache, by the way, was long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people like tactile support after they panic. Some really do not. Usnavi, thankfully, finds it comforting, just like Alexander did.
> 
> Ch. 3 Sneak Peek:  
> A chilly wind brought a fine mist of rain to the street and Usnavi shivered.
> 
> And if you're ever bored or anything, here's a writing prompt: So what are Sonny and Pete up to during this night? ;)


	3. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John! Gets! A point of view!
> 
> And he's pretty much just as confused as the rest of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. hi. hey.
> 
> This story, as I have it roughly planned out now, is hella long. Like three parts. Maybe four. My brainstorming doc has 106,000 words and I'm only like halfway through (though admittedly most of them are word vomit and references so I'm entertained when I read it later).
> 
> That being said, if you want to know how this ends, you're in this for the long run. Hope you're okay with that. :)

A chilly wind brought a fine mist of rain to the street and Usnavi shivered. They were walking to his bodega, John in a t-shirt and jeans and the other man in far-too-long pants, John’s shirt and three (yes, 3) of John’s coats. Maybe it wasn’t the cold that was bothering him, then; maybe the storm was still getting to him. John resisted the urge to rub his back like he used to do for Alexander when he was holed up from the storms. _Stop being an idiot,_ John chided himself. _You can’t treat this stranger like you know him. It’s bad enough that you dumped your entire life story on him right after he had a panic attack and made him drop everything in his life to be your friend, just because he looks like Alexander._

_And acts like Alexander._

_And basically has the same THOUGHTS as Alexander._

As they walked down the street, he was amazed at how easy the conversation was. With Usnavi, there always seemed to be something to talk about, whether it was the bodega or the neighbors or John’s life in South Carolina. He never stopped talking unless John spoke up, like a whirlwind of words and energy.

_EXACTLY like Alexander used to be._

The only time silence overcame them was when they reached his corner store to find the grate up and the door wide open. Usnavi stopped short and gave a small gasp.

“What happened? I thought _you_ opened the bodega?” John asked.

“I _do,_ ” he replied, stepping closer apprehensively.

“So why is it open? Did someone...” John trailed off, not wanting to say what they were both thinking.

“I don’t know. I know I locked up yesterday, because the storm was gonna hit. But the only other person who has a key to the grate is-”

Usnavi didn’t even finish his sentence. He just ran through the door, and after a moment’s hesitation John followed him.

“I cannot believe my eyeballs,” Usnavi breathed, surveying the scene.

Standing behind the counter were two boys who John had to assume were in their late teens. Both had their arms thrown open and bore identical wide, flashing grins.

“WELCOME, one and all, to the De La Vega Bodega!” the shorter one announced pompously, looking almost smugly at Usnavi. He had a rounded face and, despite the chilly weather, was sporting a rather baggy tank top with a colorful sort of design on it. A blue snapback hat was shoved backwards over his dark, curly hair. The other one pretended to play a trumpet like he was announcing the arrival of a monarch. He was the opposite of the shorter boy: tall and lean, with very closely-cropped hair and a slight slouch apparent in his posture.

“You guys opened the bodega?” Usnavi asked incredulously. Clearly this had never happened before.

“And not a minute late,” the shorter one replied, winking. The taller one laughed and threw an arm around his friend. “But it looks like we weren’t even the ones to be worried about. I thought the _just sleeping_ thing applied to you, too?”

John didn’t exactly catch whatever inside joke was hidden behind his words, but Usnavi definitely did. He turned to John, with eyes wide, and looked back at the two boys. John noticed a slight redness rising to his cheeks as he uttered a string of “no’s” in rapid succession while shaking his head like a madman.

“Sonny, Pete, this is John. I- uh- got lost in the rain last night and he found me and let me crash at his place ‘til the morning. He just moved here a couple weeks ago.”

The two waved and John returned the gesture. The taller one leaned down and whispered something to the other, who cackled directly at Usnavi. Said man just sighed.

“John, this is Sonny–” he pointed to the shorter one– “and Pete.” he pointed to the taller kid, who nodded. “Sonny’s my little punk cousin and Pete’s his partner-in-crime.”

Sonny let out a short, sharp laugh, looking at John.

“Ignore him, he got it mixed up. Pete’s the punk and I’m the partner in crime.”

“It’s the same damn thing,” Usnavi muttered.

Sonny shook his head and grinned, almost maliciously.

“No, it’s not. Vanessa hasn’t taught you yet, I guess, but dom-sub relationships can't be mixed up–”

“SONNY DE LA VEGA!” Usnavi shrieked, shoving his hands over his ears as Sonny and Pete both cackled. John couldn’t help but laugh, too, both at the two boys doubled over and at the bright red tinge on Usnavi’s cheeks. His face was adorably scrunched up as if he was trying to forget what he’d just heard.

“Okay, okay,” Sonny finally gasped, holding a hand out as if in surrender. “It’s nice to meet ya, John.”

“Yeah,” Pete smiled.

“Nice to meet y’all as well,” John grinned.

“So what brings you to the bodega?” Sonny asked, bumping up against the taller Pete amiably.

“I was brought with the promise of a cup of your world-famous _café con leche_.”

Usnavi snapped his fingers and suddenly scurried behind the counter. “Oh! That’s right,” he said, conjuring a coffee pot out of nowhere and whirling over to a little gas range in the back. “One cup of coffee, coming up!”

Sonny gasped, clutching his chest. “How dare you say that your coffee is the flagship drink of this store!” He turned to John. “Clearly he’s never mentioned my even-more-world-famous slushies.”

Four customers had walked in since their conversation started. All four of them groaned.

“WHAT?” Sonny protested indignantly before stomping over to the slushie machine. “Just wait. I’ll make you a _real_ drink.”

“It’s not too late to run,” Pete whispered over the countertop. If he was joking, he was doing a real good job of hiding it.

Naturally, the slushie was finished first, garnished flamboyantly with what looked like a garish combination of skittles, nerds, and popping rock candy. John was very hesitant to take a sip, but Sonny was staring at him like an excited puppy.

“Cheers.”

The best way to describe it was a rainbow exploding on his tongue. TOTAL sensory overload. He swore he could even _hear_ the flavors– or maybe that was just the popping rock candy. It’s not that it tasted _bad_ , per se, it was just as if somebody took three tons of sugar, ice, and candy, blew it up, bottled up the explosion, and made it sweeter, colder, and… chewier?

“How’s it taste?” Sonny was still looking at him expectantly.

John decided to go for honesty. “Like a nuclear… rainbow… meteor shower.”

Usnavi snorted from his half-disguise behind the fridge. “He took it easy on you, then. Consider yourself lucky.”

It was another couple of minutes before the coffee was ready, and out of courtesy, John made himself drink down the rest of the Nuclear Rainbow Meteor Shower (which Sonny had dubbed the official name of the beverage), much to the astonishment of Usnavi (“Nobody’s ever finished one of Sonny’s slushies before!”). He also learned about Abuela Claudia– it was her coffee recipe he would be taste-testing next– and was shown her mural on the bodega grate by a very proud Sonny.

“Damn. Did you do this?”

“Pete did.”

He looked at Pete incredulously, who shrugged meekly.

“At Sonny’s request.”

He also learned that, in a bit of a shocking revelation, that the two boys were _dating_ , and not just friends. Suddenly Pete had jumped off the spot where he was sitting on the counter, announced he had business to attend to (which was met with an incredulous snort from Usnavi) and bent down to peck Sonny on the mouth before shouldering a ginormous backpack and strolling out. Sonny watched him go with an enormous goofy grin on his face, completely quiet for the first time in a while (Usnavi’s little cousin could talk just as much as, if not even MORE, than Usnavi could).

His realization was given up by a soft “oh” that slipped from his mouth, which made Sonny look back at him, his smile gone.

“Y’all are…” John trailed off.

“...Yeah,” the boy replied cautiously.

“...Oh. Well, okay. I mean, you’re cute together,” he amended quickly, and Sonny beamed. He was about to reply when Usnavi spoke up from the gas range, mixing something with apparent blender-like speed.

“Just wait ‘til you have to spend more time with ‘em. It gets worse.”

John laughed, replying “I’m sure it does.”

Growing up in South Carolina with a God-fearing Republican Senator for a father meant a lot of things, one of them being that, as his old man said very nicely, “gay is NOT okay.” John didn’t really agree with that; in fact, the didn’t agree with a vast majority of his father’s little sayings, but it was still a shock to see two boys just… _kiss_. Without any consequence. If he was completely honest with himself, being friends with Usnavi, his male cousin, and his male cousin’s boyfriend was a lot to take in. It felt like sticking up a giant middle finger to his dad and all his little sayings. And he loved it.

It reminded him, once again, of Alexander, who (quite frequently) liked to remind people that he was bisexual. Or rather, he reminded them that he was “bi, like the Fourth of July.”

 _Huh. I wonder if Usnavi is bi like the Fourth of July,_ he thought idly.

It wasn’t something he knew how to bring up in casual conversation, so he let the matter drop and re-tuned into the ongoing debate between the cousins: the romanticality and legality of spraying your lover’s name on a wall with spray paint.

“He’s _risking his freedom_ to make a gesture for his significant other! How is that not romantic?” Sonny protested.

“The police are gonna enter a no-tagging zone and see a giant stylized version of ‘Sonny de la Vega’ graffitied on the wall. Whaddaya think they’re gonna do? Say, ‘gee, I have no idea who might know something about this?’” Usnavi fired back, slamming some compartment closed to punctuate his argument.

“Puh-lease. As if the police are gonna care about anything that happens here. Have you seen a SINGLE officer in the past month? Or a cop car? Or even someone to direct traffic?”

“I have,” John spoke up suddenly. Sonny whipped around to look at him.

“Wait, seriously?”

Since maybe a week ago, there always seemed to be one or two police officers everywhere. They always seemed to be watching him, but he blamed that on his paranoia of his dad sending people to bring him back home. Still, there was one that always came into the bakery when he did. There was one that he _swore_ patrolled in his building on account of how many times he saw him as he walked out of his apartment. And since that first time he’d walked into Usnavi’s bodega, he hadn’t been able to go back because there was always, ALWAYS a cop car blocking the way or a police officer stopping him for a drug test or something absurd like that. But all of a sudden, on the morning of the blackout, they had disappeared. All of them. Just like that. For a couple of days, John had even stayed in his apartment for fear that there was something wrong.

Before he could say any of this, though, there was a hot cup of coffee on the counter in front of him and Usnavi was beaming at him.

“Order up, one cup of the barrio’s best!”

“What happened to world-famous?” John raised an eyebrow and lifted the cup to his lips.

“I _told_ you, that’s the slushie,” Sonny interjected, and before John could say anything, the delightfully warm aroma of the coffee invited him to take a sip, and…

_Oh._

“Wow.” Another sip.

The only way to describe it was _home._ It was unlike anything he’d ever tasted (Nuclear Rainbow Meteor Shower aside), and certainly better than the bitter water he’d gotten used to from the machine at his apartment. This was wonderfully warm, and smooth, and rich, and creamy, and _holy shit,_ he took another sip and let his eyelids close in contentment.

“Wow,” he repeated.

“You like it?” came Usnavi’s slightly nervous question, and John heard Sonny scoff in response.

“No. Clearly he hates it. That’s why he keeps saying ‘wow’.”

Upon opening his eyes, he was met with Usnavi hovering over the counter, eyes adorably wide as he waited for a response. John suppressed a giggle at the way he was anxiously rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I– this is fuckin’ heaven in a cup.”

Usnavi squealed and did a little victory jig. Sonny hid his face in embarrassment. John laughed, watching his little dance, and took another sip.

“What’s in it?”

Usnavi beamed. “It’s simple, really. Just some coffee, cold condensed milk and a liiiittle bit of cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon, huh?”

“ _Cinnamon, huh?_ ” Sonny repeated after John, except slower and more carefully. The look he gave Usnavi was almost… accusatory? It seemed so, as Usnavi shrank back from it and looked away. John didn’t have time to ask what was happening, though, because at that moment, the bodega bell chimed and a very familiar-looking person sauntered in.

“Benny!!!” Usnavi cried, and the aforementioned Benny man waved a hand in greeting. He had a square jaw, thick neck and eyebrows, and a confidence in his stride that reminded him startlingly of his former commander Washington. The resemblance was uncanny, really. He did remember George mentioning several times that he had a half-brother or something– perhaps they could be related. In that case, he made a mental note to ask his commander, if he ever saw him again, how come his brother had hair and he didn’t.

“Yo! Let me get my usual, and to celebrate this power FINALLY coming back on, I’m getting a–”

Benny had been glancing around the store, but he stopped short when he saw John next to Usnavi.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Benny! This is John. John, Benny. He’s usually VERY NICE to my friends, but…” Usnavi threw a pointed look at Benny, who to his credit looked a little guilty, but John made to formally introduce himself anyway. If this dude was related to his old boss, he was taking no chances with diplomacy.

“John. John Laurens. I just moved here a couple weeks ago.”

“Benny Washington,” the dude responded, shaking John’s hand and smiling while Sonny shoved two newspapers, a Milky Way, and a coffee into his other arm. Yep. He had the same warm smile as George did.

“Are you by any chance related to–”

“George Washington, our former president and current antisocial hermit? Yep, that’s my brother.” Obviously John had not been the first to ask that same question.

“What a small world, I know him! I used to work for him, back in the army. He was my general–”

As if someone had flipped a switch, Benny’s easy smile was gone, and it was replaced with a look of… terror.

Terror?

 _Am I being scary? Is there something coming up behind me? Does my breath stink? What’s going on?_ John thought frantically.

It offered him a little bit of comfort to know that Sonny and Usnavi seemed just as confused as he was. Usnavi walked to the other side of the counter to stand next to John, almost protectively.

“Benny? Something wrong?”

“Nope,” Benny squeaked unconvincingly, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“What’s happening?” John asked. Nobody seemed to be able to answer.

In one quick motion, Benny reached into his pocket, pulled out a ten, shoved it into Usnavi’s hand and was out of the bodega faster than he had come. The only thing he said was, “I forgot something. Nice to meet you, John Laurens” in that same squeaky voice.

“What the fuck?” Sonny voiced everyone’s thoughts after the bell on the bodega door chimed as it shut behind him.

Okay, so John could accept the fact that it might be a coincidence that Usnavi, who happened to look and talk and act exactly like his now-dead best friend, lived in the same neighborhood as his former commander’s family. But it could NOT be a coincidence that said commander’s brother freaked out just as John mentioned his ties to the commander, and by proxy, aforementioned best friend.

Something was up.

And Alexander, as always, was in the middle of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "aforementioned Benny man" makes me laugh every time I read it and I literally cracked up in the middle of class when I wrote it
> 
> just imagine
> 
> HERE COMES AFOREMENTIONED BENNY MAN
> 
> Ch. 4 Sneak Peek  
> "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit."
> 
> ^me every day, trying to get my arm to be a normal arm


	4. Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny freaks out, George provides answers.
> 
> Then all hell breaks loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: if you try to add emojis to html text it breaks down and you must start editing all over again :))))))))))))

“Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit.” Benny muttered through gritted teeth. It was partly because his piping hot coffee had sloshed out of his cup and was currently scalding his hand. But more importantly, it was because George was going to kill him. Literally kill him.

Nina was waiting for him at Bennett Park, but that would have to wait until after he was dead. He shot a quick text to her while he speedwalked (it took a few tries to get the message correct) and shot up the steps to his apartment complex.

More coffee on his arm. More pain. But it didn’t matter, not when his brother was going to kill him anyway.

As soon as he was in his apartment, locked the door, and responded to Nina (Nothing’s wrong, I just forgot I have something this morning, I’ll meet u there for lunch <3), he was on the phone anxiously willing the dial tones to beat faster. Finally his killer— or rather, his brother, picked up.

“B-Wash!”

Normally, Benny would greet “G-Wash!” in response, but that seemed like idiocy now. So instead, he skipped right to his message.

“George, I failed you and this entire barrio and Usnavi and I’m sorry and don’t kill me, just tell me what do I do–”

“Woah woah WOAH,” George interjected, sensing the panic in Benny’s voice. “Sit down. What’s wrong?”

There wasn’t even space in his head to think about his brother’s phone-intuition powers.

“You know the code whatever? That started this whole Usnavi business? I found the guy.”

“The Code 1A? You found him?” George seemed more amused than anything. It was unnerving how little he was freaking out.

“Yeah– John. John Laurens, I think was his name. He said he moved here a couple of weeks ago and he used to be your soldier or something–”

“So John finally moved back to the States, huh?” George interrupted, more to himself than to Benny. Why was he being so calm? For a moment Benny wondered if it was because he had already sent a heat-seeking missile to blow his face off.

“And he’s already met Usnavi! They’re friends now! He got his free coffee!” Maybe he wasn’t portraying the situation as serious as he should have. But George just chuckled– chuckled! as if Benny was telling him about a game of hide-and-seek or something.

“Of all the people. Of course it had to be John.”

“George–”

“Benny, it’s okay. It’s fine.”

“But–”

“ _Benny._ ”

Benny fell silent and flopped down on his couch.

“John’s not gonna hurt anyone. Trust me, I know. Remember what I told you your job was?”

“Keep Usnavi in the barrio and make sure he takes his pills?”

“Yep. And is Usnavi still in the barrio?”

“Yeah, but–”

“And is he taking his pills?”

“Yes, but–”

“Then you’re good.”

“But–”

“Benny, it’s–”

“LISTEN!” Benny yelled. George finally fell silent.

“Cut the ‘it’s fine’ bullshit, man. I wouldn’t still be doing stuff for you if everything was fine. I wanna know what’s going on.”

George didn’t say anything for a while. Finally he sighed and asked, “Fine. I suppose you have the right to know what you're doing. So what do you want to know?”

Benny sat straight up and gave an exasperated sigh. _Now_ they were finally getting somewhere. “So… you said there’s a dangerous person somewhere that wants to kill Usnavi?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you caught the guy that kidnapped him the first time? Isn’t he in jail?”

“We did,” George replied after a pause. “Jefferson. He’s serving two life sentences now. But we believe this might be someone that helped him pull it off the first time that went by unchecked, and he’s back to finish business. Or, perhaps Jefferson might’ve been telling the truth when he argued he was framed. In any case, yes, there’s someone else out there and we’re working to catch him."

“...and do you know where he is now?"

“Our best estimates place him in the barrio somewhere, which makes the most sense if he knows that Usnavi’s still alive.”

“So… there’s a professional murderer… somewhere in our neighborhood,” Benny repeated slowly, trying very hard not to freak out about it. And failing.

George hesitated in responding. That didn’t help matters at all.

“If you put it like that, it sounds worse than it is. Politically motivated assassins- which we’re assuming this agent is- like to keep their hands as clean as possible. Nobody is in danger unless they’re aware of who the agent is or what he’s there to do.”

“ _I_ know what he’s here to do,” Benny remarked plaintively. George sighed.

“No, you don’t. To everyone else you have no idea about any of this. That’s why you don’t let anyone know what you know. You understand me?”

Benny nodded, realized George couldn’t see him, then realized that with his phone-intuition shit, he actually probably could. And true to his reasoning, George continued on.

“Good. That’s why I’m keeping things from you. It’s only for your safety. All you need to know about this is that John’s not any threat.”

“But didn’t you say you don’t know who the agent is or where he is?”

“Yes, but we can be absolutely positive that it’s not John. He would never in a million _years_ hurt Usnavi.”

“But what if the agent hurts _John_?”

George paused. Clearly he didn’t have an answer to that.

“...Like I said, we believe the first incident was politically motivated. John hasn’t been around long enough to acquire political enemies. And plus, this agent, if he’s still in the barrio, would be smart not to reveal himself while we still have the area under heightened security. If he’s going to do anything, it’d only be if Usnavi wasn’t within our perimeters.”

“Okay, so as long as I keep Usnavi in the barrio, it’s cool that they hang out and stuff?”

“And make sure he keeps taking his pills, yes. There’s very low danger.”

“So who is this John, anyway?” Benny asked. George sighed, as if it was a long story.

“John Laurens was my other aide-de-camp with Alexander when we fought in the war. The two were never without each other. It’s fitting that they found each other again– hah– I’m surprised it even took them this long. After the war when I got the presidency I planned to take Alexander with me to be my Secretary of the Treasury and John to be my Secretary of the State, but his dad, Senator Henry Laurens, officially requested his presence to train the South Carolinian milita. You shoulda seen Alexander, man, he was in a state for _days_. Son even requested to hold his office in a more southern area to be closer to him. Anyway, a couple weeks later Henry Laurens informed me that John had moved to England to live with his wife and kid. I didn’t even know he had a family, he’d never mentioned it before. Mr. Laurens said not to tell Alexander, but he must’ve figured it out somehow, because I swear to god for a month straight he wouldn’t leave his office.” George chuckled. “Poor kid. Anyway, that’s all I know about John because I haven’t heard from him since. If he’s moved back here, I hope his family’s okay. Was he alone when you met him?”

“Yeah. Didn’t notice a ring, either.” Benny’s impression of John, however brief and clouded by terror it was, wasn’t one of a married family man.

“Hmm. Well, yeah, as long as John doesn’t take Usnavi out of the barrio, you should be fine. Like I said, the agent would be unwise to show his face there, what with all the heightened surveillance. For now, we’re just working on locating him. There's nothing more you can do.”

“...Oh.” Benny could hear the slight disappointment in his own voice, so no doubt George could hear it too. His brother chuckled.

“Good that you’re on alert, though.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

They sat for a second in silence. Benny was still a little miffed that he’d gotten all worked up about nothing. His arm was still stinging from the coffee that had long gone cold.

“So even if John finds out that Usnavi’s actually Alexander, there’s still no danger?”

“Not really. Of course, you shouldn’t tell him, because if the secret got–”

George was cut off by a very loud, obnoxious beeping coming from his end of the line.

“Oh. Oh God, here we go.”

“What? What happened?” Benny asked, but his brother didn’t answer him.

“Tallmadge, trace that signal! I want a location and an IP– NO, NOT THAT!” George had taken the phone off his ear and was yelling at someone else in whatever room he was in.

“Is something wrong? George!” Benny yelled, panic rising in his chest. For years he worried about something happening to his brother, what with his top-secret job and all, but George always assured him everything was fine. He wasn't doing that now.

George yelled some other things Benny couldn’t quite discern before putting the receiver back to his mouth.

“Sorry, Benny. I gotta go. I’ll call you back,” he whispered.

“Why? What’s happening? Are you in danger?” Benny cried, but the line had already clicked dead.

_No._ His brother couldn’t get hurt. Could he? He always said their facilities were unbreachable. They had the best agents in the country– _oh, god,_ Benny thought, _why don’t I know more about his job?_ George had just told him that the less he knew, the less danger he'd be in, but that rule flew out the window when it came to this stuff. Knowing was worth the danger. He picked up his phone again and dialed George’s number.

“Yes?” A female voice asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Where’d George go?” He blurted immediately.

“George?”

“Washington! Where is he?”

“Who?”

“GEORGE WASHINGTON! YOU HAVE GEORGE WASHINGTON ON YOUR SIDE OF THE LINE! WHERE IS HE?”

“Pardon me, I was talking to someone else,” the woman said hurriedly. “Mr. Washington’s right here, but he’s busy. He says he’ll call you back when he can.”

“...Oh. Sorry.”

“Please wait for his call.” For the second time, the line went dead.

He buried his face in his hands, but then realized he didn’t have time for that. George could call again at any time. Frantically, he checked his phone.

Four texts from Nina.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. His calm, capable, military-general brother would be okay. This probably happened all the time. George’s panicked “oh, God” echoed in his head again, but he pushed it away. That didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t have.

He took another breath and checked Nina’s messages.

**Mi amor <3**  
_Received:_ OK  
_Received: _Can you bring a blanket? I’ll bring some of my mom’s leftovers and we can have a picnic :)__  
_Received:_ I hope everything’s ok  
_Received:_ Te quiero  <3

____

_How do you say I love you, too in Spanish?_ Benny searched his spanish vocab before sending a message back.

____

**Mi amor <3**  
_Sent:_ everything’s fine. te quiero tambien  <3 <3

____

That looked right.

____

Benny sighed and sat back on his couch. Nina always knew how to calm him down, even when she wasn’t even there. A blessing, that’s what she was. She was a blessing to him and to everyone in the barrio.

____

Another text alert made him look down at his phone, expecting Nina’s quick response. Instead, it was George.

____

**G-Wash**  
_Received:_ Call me npw  
_Received:_ now

____

_What the shit, George?_ Benny thought, going into panic mode again, his fingers shaking as he called his brother. He picked up on the first ring.

____

“Benjamin!”

____

Despite everything going on, it relieved him to hear that his brother was, at the very least, still alive. “George, are you ok? What’s going on?”

____

“I’m fine, but I have a job for you. I need you to find Usnavi. Keep me on the phone.”

____

“What do you–”

____

“NOW! GO!”

____

Benny stood up and ran for the door, in full panic mode now. He almost forgot to put on his shoes. “What’s wrong? Is Usnavi in danger?”

____

“Not yet, if–”

____

“Not YET?”

____

“BENNY, GO!”

____

And so Benny ran. George must’ve sensed that Benny couldn’t talk and sprint down stairs at the same time, so he kept a running commentary going. “When you find him– oh, and get John too, they should be in the same place, anyway– you have to– NO, TALLMADGE, JUST GET ME SOMETHING! I DON’T CARE IF THE IP IS SCRAMBLED– GET ME A SIGNAL! GET ME A WI-FI CONNECTION! GET ME A COMPUTER BRAND! ANYTHING! … so Benny, when you find them you’re gonna _stay with them,_ understand? And I’ll tell you what to do once you tell me you have them and they’re safe. WHY ARE YOU STOPPING! GO!”

____

Benny had stopped for, like, two seconds at the bottom of the stairs to catch his breath.

____

_Fuck George and his phone-intuition._

____

“I need you to get there fast. The plane that Usnavi was supposed to be leaving on for the DR is in the air as we speak, and somebody who we believe is connected to the agent has planted a bomb in his seat. He’s just connected to it now and we’re trying to trace his signal.”

____

“Oh... God... So… why… do you need… Usnavi?” Benny gasped, earning stares from passers-by as he sprinted down the street. Benny needed to start running again. If it was any indication from the stares he received, he didn’t do it very often.

____

“I need you to get them somewhere safe where they can bunker down for a few days. We’re gonna have to let the plane go down, or else the island might be attacked next. But if the agent believes Usnavi went down on that plane, he’s not going to just pack up and go home. And he’s definitely not going to leave if he sees the man that was supposed to have been dead– twice– just walking down the street.”

____

Black spots were beginning to grow on the edge of Benny’s vision. He ignored them.

____

“Are you almost there? I’m not sure we can delay the signal for very much longer.”

____

“Yeah… I’m… just… gimme a…” The bodega was one street away. Benny shut up and kept running, willing his legs to keep moving.

____

“Jesus, dude, you need to get in shape. How far away IS he?”

____

Benny didn’t respond, but instead finally pushed the bodega door open and bent over his knees, gasping for breath. “Us...na...vi… here… hold on…”

____

There wasn’t nearly enough oxygen in the air. Benny collapsed onto the ground and laid out on his back, dirty floor be damned.

____

“GAAAAAAH!”

____

“Benny, are you okay?” Usnavi asked worriedly, running over to him. Benny ignored him. He could only handle one task at a time now, and task #1 was breathing.

____

“Was that Usnavi?” George’s voice rang out over the phone. Somehow Benny had kept it clutched to his ear as he collapsed.

____

“Yeah.”

__“Who’re you talking to?” Usnavi asked. Benny ignored him again._ _

__“They’re both here.”_ _

__“Good.”_ _

__“Who’s that?” Usnavi asked again. He was waved off._ _

__“What do I do now?” Benny managed to utter, all in one breath. He looked at John, who looked positively confused._ _

__“Quick, take them to a secure area. Back to your place.”_ _

__“GAAAAH!” Benny gasped again. Usnavi jumped and ran out of his vision to who the fuck knows where._ _

__“Is this normal?” Came John’s small voice from the counter._ _

__“For outta shape Benny? Yeah,” came Sonny’s voice in reply. Slowly, he sat up. No dark spots. That was a good sign._ _

__“Benny, quick,” George warned. Benny waved at the air as if shooing his voice away._ _

__“Don’t you WAVE YOUR HAND at me–”_ _

__“Gotta GO, man,” Benny interrupted. “Text me if you need anything.” With that, he hung up the phone and slowly got to his feet– nope, no he wasn’t, he was going down._ _

__“Benny!” Usnavi grabbed him and lay him on the ground, fanning him with a stupid plastic fan._ _

__“I’m FINE, I’m fine,” Benny said, trying to wave off both him and Sonny, who had brought him a cup of water. His second attempt at standing went much better than the first, although he still needed a little support from the cousins. And in that short time George found the time to shoot him five texts._ _

____**G-Wash**  
_Received:_ BENNU  
_Received:_ BENNY  
_Received:_ GET THEM HOME NPW  
_Received:_ NOW  
_Received:_ HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO TRUST YOU WHEN YOU COLLAPSE AFTER RUNNING LIKE THREE BLOCKS 

___It’s actually FOUR blocks, thank you very much._ _ _

__But George was right, he had to get Usnavi and John to his apartment. He looked at each of them in turn: Usnavi, who was still clutching his plastic fan and watching him concernedly, and John, who was mirroring that expression from the counter, but unsure what to do with himself. How was he gonna get Usnavi, who didn’t even leave the bodega on a snow day, and John, who he’d known for all of two minutes before freaking out and splitting, to accompany him to his apartment?_ _

__By doing what Benny did best, of course._ _

__Looking like he knew what he was doing._ _

__Drawing himself to his full height, Benny cleared his throat and popped the collar of his shirt._ _

__“Ahem, the reason I ran over here is, uh…”_ _

___Professionalism and diplomacy,_ George always said._ _

__“I made a grave error in not thoroughly welcoming the newest addition to the barrio family,” he finished, throwing a winning smile at John. Who, by the way, did not look at all convinced. “John Laurens, was it? Welcome to town! And it is my civic duty to whis wonderful neighborhood to give you the full Benny’s Barrio Experience, so if I may, I’d like to formally invite you to accompany on a walk. You’ll be back here as soon as it’s over. And, um, Usnavi can come, too. Whadda ya say?”_ _

__Nobody spoke for a moment. John looked pretty suspicious. Usnavi just looked confused. Sonny finally broke the silence._ _

__“Benny, what the fuck?”_ _

__So much for professionalism and diplomacy._ _

__“Just fucking come with me.”_ _

__~~~_ _

__If anyone noticed that they were strolling at an uncomfortably brisk pace, they didn’t say anything. Or, really, they just didn’t say anything at all. The entire four blocks back to his apartment, Benny had to talk about everything as Usnavi and John had fallen silent trailing behind him. Usnavi only spoke up when they were nearing his apartment and Benny looked down to see his brother’s text for the seventh time in two minutes._ _

__“Why are you checking your phone so much? Is someone waiting at your apartment or something?”_ _

__“Nah, it’s– it’s just Nina checking up on me.”_ _

__“Who’s Nina?” John asked, and Usnavi answered him._ _

__“Benny’s girlfriend. She goes to Stanford, but she’s back for the summer. They spend, like, every waking second together.”_ _

__Shit. Speaking of Nina… Benny sighed. How was he supposed to keep Usnavi and John in his apartment AND go on their picnic in Bennett Park?_ _

__“Here we are.” Benny opened his apartment door and gestured inside. For a second, John and Usnavi just stared at him._ _

__“Go on, go in.”_ _

__“What are we doing here, again?” John asked._ _

__“I’m giving you Benny’s Barrio Experience.”_ _

__“Can I skip this? I left the bodega with Sonny and I don’t know how much longer he’ll keep it running...” Usnavi spoke up._ _

__“Oh, let the kid work on his own for a bit. He’ll be fine.”_ _

__“Is anyone else confused that Benny’s Barrio Experience was just a walk to your–”_ _

__“JUST GO IN!” He snapped, feeling every second drag on while they were out in the open. The agent could’ve walked by that very second and could’ve killed them all because he couldn’t get two stupid men to walk through his door._ _

__At long last, they entered (rather quickly, after Benny had yelled at them)._ _

____**G-Wash**  
_Sent:_ there safe now chill  
_Received:_ It’s about time  
_Received:_ Did they have to take you to the hospital first or  
_Sent:_ jfc just tell me what i have to do next  
_Received:_ Keep them there until the coast is cleat  
_Received:_ clear*  
_Sent:_ which is…  
_Received:_ When I say so  
_Sent:_ g-waaaaaaaaaaaaassssshhhh  
_Received:_ This is one of those ‘the less ypu know the better’ thongs  
_Received:_ things* 

__Benny sighed and looked back up at his houseguests._ _

__“Who’s hungry?”_ _

__Usnavi raised an eyebrow. “At eight-thirty in the morning?”_ _

__“Fine. Thirsty?”_ _

__“I just had a coffee, thank you,” John said, still clutching a paper cup._ _

__Benny threw a giant mental middle finger at his brother._ _

__“Okay, well at least sit down. Make yourselves comfortable.”_ _

__“Benny, I got a job to do–”_ _

__“Dude, you’re the one always complaining how Sonny doesn’t know real work. Give him some time alone, it’ll be good for him.”_ _

__"Good for him, or bad for the bodega?" Usnavi muttered, but reluctantly, the two finally sat on the sofa. Benny took the armchair._ _

__“So, John, tell me about yourself. Where’re you from?”_ _

__As John launched into his spiel about South Carolina and his army background, Benny caught Usnavi’s “what the hell are you doing” glance out of the corner of his eye. He glared back, and as surreptitiously as he could, checked his phone. It had been exactly three minutes since George last said anything._ _

__“And… yeah, that’s how I got here. Then last night I found Usnavi in the rain, invited him over, and, uh... now I'm on your sofa.”_ _

__He noted with some interest that John hadn’t mentioned _anything_ about a wife or kids or England, which made him pretty curious._ _

__“So, uh, you ever been out of the country?”_ _

__“Not since the war, no.”_ _

__Well that was a bit of a problem. Benny tried to remember his conversation with George, and- yes, he was _sure_ George had mentioned that John moved to England. It was kind of a major part of his story._ _

__“Ooh! Me neither!” Usnavi piped up. As he launched into his _own_ little spiel about wanting to go back to his roots in the DR, Benny checked his phone again. Still no reply._ _

____**G-Wash**  
_Sent:_ john said hes never been out of the country since the war???  
_Received:_ Huh.  
_Sent:_ so how long am i keeping them 

__As John talked about how Alexander would always write about his little island in the Caribbean, he checked his phone again. Still no reply._ _

__The next time he checked it, it had been ten minutes._ _

__Then thirty._ _

__Then two hours._ _

__When Usnavi and John struck up a conversation about the pros and cons of chicken nuggets (how did they get to that topic?), Benny took the chance to take out his phone again._ _

__**G-Wash**  
_Sent:_ HOW MUCH LONGER_ _

__**Mi amor <3**  
_Sent:_ im sorry nina, i dont think im gonna be able to do the park today. I ran this morning and ive just hit a wall. A giant wall_ _

__George stayed silent. Nina replied almost immediately._ _

____**Mi amor <3**  
_Received:_ Aww haha well good try :)  
_Received:_ But my mom’s already made us a special picnic meal. Can I bring it to you? Where are you?  
_Sent:_ im at my apartment. Usnavi and his friend john are here too  
_Received:_ Usnavi’s not at the bodega?  
_Received:_ Who’s John?  
_Sent:_ just moved here recently. Hes from sc, usnavis keeping him company  
_Received:_ Oh! I want to meet him. Don’t move, I’ll bring the picnic!  
_Sent:_ wasnt planning on moving anytime soon anyway  
_Received:_ lol te quiero, Benny 

__**G-Wash**  
_Received:_ Not yet_ _

__**SDLV**  
_Received:_ do me a solid  & keep your bennys barrio experience going pls pete just showed up_ _

__Benny sighed and looked up at Usnavi moving his hands animatedly and John doubled over with laughter. He was recounting his infamous “how I met Vanessa” story._ _

__He thought about what George had said about Alexander and John being inseparable, and wondered if Usnavi could feel that part of him when he talked to John. It certainly looked like it. And John… did he know he was talking to his best friend? He most certainly suspected something, considering they had the same face. It was funny he didn’t mention anything about it, though. Benny wondered if he could bring the subject up on his own. Was it legal, or would George flip out on him?_ _

__Then he reminded himself that he didn’t have to worry about that, because said man _still_ hadn’t answered his phone. Oh, well. On to better news._ _

__“Hey, guys, Nina’s gonna meet us here, and she’s bringing some lunch for us.”_ _

__Usnavi turned to him and grinned excitedly. “Is she bringing something of Camila’s?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__He turned to John. “Okay, we gotta stay for that. Camila is Nina’s mom. She makes the best… she just makes the best everything.”_ _

__“Even the best coffee?”_ _

__“Okay, ALMOST the best everything.”_ _

__The two shared another smile before John turned to Benny._ _

__“So what’s Nina like? You haven’t talked about her much.”_ _

__Benny began to speak before he was interrupted by Usnavi. “Ohohohoho, you don’t wanna go there.”_ _

__“Why not?”_ _

__“He’s never gonna stop. We’ll be here forever. That’s like asking Sonny what’s wrong with the barrio.”_ _

__“Well, if he’s gonna keep us here ‘til she comes with food, no harm done, right?” John shoved Usnavi good-naturedly. “You’re just jealous ‘cause Benny can keep a girl.”_ _

__“AM NOT! I HAVE A GIRL TOO, YOU KNOW!”_ _

__“You had one shitty date and what she thought was a goodbye kiss,” Benny chimed in._ _

__“No way!” John laughed, poking him. “I thought you said you got a second date?”_ _

__Usnavi glared at Benny before responding. “Well… it hasn’t exactly happened yet, but it will,” he muttered._ _

__John laughed some more until Usnavi protested. “That’s still more than YOU got!”_ _

__He shrugged, still smiling. “Touché.”_ _

___That’s odd,_ Benny thought. _There’s more proof that he doesn’t have a family. Is there a different John Laurens that George knows? Was Alexander friends with a different man? No, these two were definitely best friends. Look at them.__ _

__John flipped his hair and batted his eyes in a pretty good imitation of Vanessa. Usnavi flipped him off._ _

___Am I missing something?_ _ _

__He opened his mouth to ask when there was a knock at the door._ _

___Well that’s odd. Nina couldn’t have gotten here THIS quickly, could she?_ Benny’s heart beat just a little bit faster as he went over to open it. _What if the agent found us, and he’s here to–__ _

__Oh, nope, it was just Vanessa._ _

__“Hey, Benny,” she sighed, stepping right past him and into his apartment. “Do you still have my wine opener? Because I can’t find it and I know I left it… oh. Hi, Usnavi.”_ _

__She paused to watch him wave enthusiastically._ _

__“What are you doing here? And who’s your friend?”_ _

__“Hi, I’m John. John Laurens.” He got up to shake her hand._ _

__“Uh, I’m Vanessa García.”_ _

__John laughed and nodded over to Usnavi._ _

__“I know. I’ve heard quite a bit about you from your friend over there.”_ _

__Usnavi blushed and suddenly found great interest in the threads of the couch cushion._ _

__Benny took over the conversation, which had faded into a bit of an awkward silence. “Vanessa, if you got time, why don’t you stay awhile? Nina’s bringing over some of Camila’s food for lunch, you can join us.”_ _

__“What’s the occasion?” she asked, stepping further into the room._ _

___The hijacking of Usnavi’s plane and all of our imminent danger,_ Benny thought dully._ _

__Instead he clapped John on the back and said, “It’s a welcome-to-the-barrio lunch for John here!”_ _

__“Aww, is it really? Okay, I can’t say no to this, then, can I?”_ _

__Vanessa waltzed further into the living room and plopped herself on the couch right next to Usnavi. Benny and John shared a snicker at the bright red that appeared on the tips of his ears._ _

__“Hey.”_ _

__“Hey yourself.”_ _

__“Y'know, it's kinda funny,” John spoke up after a moment of silence. “We were just talkin' about you, Vanessa. Usnavi said he had something to ask you?”_ _

__To his credit, after he glared at John, Usnavi turned to Vanessa with what Benny could only assume was intense courage and resolve. Of course, it was USNAVI’S courage and resolve, so it wasn’t that impressive._ _

__“I had a great time on our date.”_ _

__“You _did?_ ”_ _

__That earned another snicker from Benny and John and another glare from Usnavi._ _

__“Yes. I did. And since, y'know, I'm staying and you kind of are too, I was wondering if you’d like to be free on– I mean–”_ _

__Another snicker, another glare._ _

__“Would you like to go out again sometime?”_ _

__“I hope you’re not suggesting we go back to the club,” Vanessa replied amusedly._ _

__“Oh no, no no, god no. I mean, wait… do you WANT to go back there?”_ _

__“Not with you, no.”_ _

__“This is gold,” John whispered._ _

__“Okay, then no, not to the club.”_ _

__“Tell you what. When I move the first of my stuff to West Village, you can help me, and then we’ll hit up a café or something after.”_ _

__"Cool. Sounds good."_ _

__Benny could almost hear the victory song playing in Usnavi’s head. John stood and applauded dramatically. “Well done, my man.”_ _

__“Shut up,” he shot back, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face while he said it. Vanessa just rolled her eyes and smiled. Benny checked his phone. George stayed silent._ _

__They talked for another ten minutes or so until Nina showed up, true to her word, bearing a giant picnic basket._ _

__“Hi everyone– oh, Vanessa, I didn’t know you were here, too! The more the merrier… and hi, you must be John!”_ _

__“That’s me,” he waved from his reclaimed spot next to Usnavi on the couch._ _

__“Nice to meet you! I’m Nina, but I’m sure you already knew that, ‘cause I’m the girl with the food.” For emphasis she raised the giant picnic basket and smiled._ _

__Benny moved to take it from her, but she pulled it away. “How about I help you set up everything? You must still be tired from this morning.”_ _

__The kitchen offered a little privacy from their guests, and once the basket was set on the table Benny leaned down to give a much-deserved kiss to his girlfriend._ _

__“You’re the best, Nina. I’m sorry I had to cancel. I promise, I’ll make it up another day.”_ _

__“It’s fine, Benny,” Nina smiled at him._ _

__“You’re a godsend. Did you know that? A freakin’ godsend.” He kissed her again, and she just giggled._ _

__“I hope you’re feeling better. And besides, it was sweet of you to set this up all for John.” After a moment of just smiling at each other, they began the process of piling all the food onto plates._ _

__Slowly, George and the plane and all the agent stuff moved to the back of his mind as everyone sat around his table and dug into heaping piles of Camila’s best food. As he shared glances with Nina and laughed with Vanessa at how hard John and Usnavi were going at their plates (apparently there was some sort of eating contest going on), the minutes turned to hours and the light slowly dimmmed on the barrio. Pete and Sonny arrived soon after locking up the bodega (not at all bothered by the fact that Usnavi had left them alone, which made said man very nervous about the state of the bodega) and Kevin and Camila showed up later still, bearing a second course of food for dinner and a couple of bottles of wine for afterward._ _

____

__Still, George’s only response was “not yet.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag yourself I'm G-Wash not being able to text
> 
> Ch. 5 Sneak Peek:  
> Normally Graffiti Pete had no idea what was going on with the people in the barrio.
> 
> Your? Comments? And? Kudos? Give? Me? Life? Idk if I've said this recently but seriously they do ily thank you


	5. Graffiti Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A self-indulgent, pure Sonny-and-Pete fluff chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHA that's a lie. I can't write fluff to save my life. And Pete's got daddy issues.

Normally Graffiti Pete had no idea what was going on with the people in the barrio.

But for the past two days, he had even LESS than no idea what was going on in the barrio.

For starters, suddenly there was this John dude that appeared out of thin air and was Usnavi’s best friend. And out of nowhere, Benny, Usnavi and John were suddenly spending every waking hour at Benny’s place, or at Usnavi’s place, or helping John unpack at his place, leaving the bodega pretty much entirely in Sonny’s care. Not that he minded, of course. Because that meant Usnavi wasn’t going to yell at them for lounging around all day drinking champagne cola and making Nuclear Rainbow Meteor Shower Slushies (in Pete’s best cursive font) the number one item on Usnavi’s tiny new menu. Or closing a bit early to go paint up a blank wall somewhere. Or– and it had only happened once– taking a lunch break to make out in the back room.

It was currently day three of “Benjusnavi”– that was Sonny’s name for them– and they were getting ready to shut down at the store when Sonny’s phone went off. He looked down at it and sighed. “Benjusnavi’s spending the night out. Again.”

“Where?”

“I don’t even know.”

Pete shook his head. “You can crash at my place again, if you want.”

Sonny nodded. “How long d’you think this is gonna last? ‘Cuz this is worse than his obsession with Vanessa.”

He was talking about his cousin. Again.

Every single day so far, without fail, the conversation had somehow made its way back to Usnavi and his stupid threesome or whatever it was. Not that it wasn’t an interesting topic of conversation, but there were better things to talk about. Like, say, literally anything else. Especially after three continuous days.

“I dunno,” Pete replied with as much interest as he possibly could. It wasn’t much. He tried, once again, to change the subject. “Is the fridge up and running again?”

The finnicky bodega fridge always demanded attention, but since the blackout it seemed to give up on life altogether. Sonny was constantly banging it with various tools whenever Pete walked in. That is, until three days ago.

“No. I mean, I would _try_ to fix it, but this ain’t my store. And _whoever owns the store_ hasn’t been around to tell me to, so...”

Just like that, they were back on subject. Pete really didn’t want to participate in the same conversation for the third day in a row, so he stayed silent. Sonny either didn't notice or was too busy stewing in his thoughts to care until right before they closed up shop.

“Something wrong?” he asked, throwing the broom back in the closet and turning to him.

“Nope. Let’s just get outta here.”

It was the first night in three days that they slept in separate beds.

~~~

The next day brought a startling new development: Usnavi was back at the bodega. As suddenly as Benjusnavi had gotten together, they had disbanded. Of course, it wasn't a _total_ breakup, and things didn’t just go back to normal. John was always with Usnavi, and Benny came in for his usual pickup and stayed a little longer than usual, but by and large, Sonny’s older cousin was once again running his own store. Which meant, among other things, that Pete’s assistance was no longer needed.

“Whaddaya want for lunch, Sonny?” he asked. If he couldn’t stick around, he could at least make himself useful.

“Gimme a minute– Hey, Usnavi, what’s the order for the change again?”

One of the things Benjusnavi had managed to do together was finally get a new cash register to replace the stolen one, which meant Sonny could transfer over his metal-box-and-calculator thingy. And he was doing that with gusto.

“Ones on the left and twenties on the right.”

“And the coins?”

“Same thing. Smallest to biggest.”

So Pete waited while he sorted the bills, then the coins, then re-sorted the bills because he’d managed to mess up the first time, then bickered with Usnavi that YES, he knew his left from his right, he just wasn’t sure if it was HIS left or the CUSTOMER’S left, and _no_ , that wasn’t a stupid question. And then, no, he didn’t count the bills, why did he need to count them, he didn’t LOSE anything, and finally Usnavi threw his hands up and resigned to counting the money himself.

“Sorry, Pete, what was that again? Pete?”

Pete had picked up a tabloid from the shelves while waiting and had become so engrossed with the latest adventures of Kim Kardashian that he barely registered Sonny talking to him. “What? Oh. Did you want me to get somethin’ for lunch for you?”

“Nah, s’okay. Usnavi said I could just pick something from the store as reward for workin’ it alone for so long.” He rolled his eyes. “Hey, you helped, you can take something too. I’ll vouch for ya.”

So Sonny got to stay with Usnavi while Pete got discount bodega food. Yipee.

He didn’t say anything, just gave a small smile and left without taking a single item. Maybe he could find a clean wall to spray to help take his mind off things.

~~~

Apparently painting was a horrible way to distract himself. The entire time he was spraying that wall, his mind never left Sonny.

He felt guilty for just leaving the store like that, and not even being able to talk to his boyfriend. It was eating him up inside. But what else was there to do? If he wanted things to change, then he’d have to explain himself, and Sonny would get mad, and– no, he knew from experience that it was better to just keep his own issues to himself.

Pete’s dad taught him that. Well, not really- he wasn’t much of a teacher type. But Pete picked up everything he needed to know from him, anyway. He learned from the times his mama would say something and then he’d spend so much time screaming at her that Pete had to climb out onto his fire escape for a while. He knew from the way she limped that he did the same things to her that he did to Pete when he was having a bad night. He knew long before he threw her out that a relationship isn’t meant to last forever. All you can do is bite your tongue and make it stretch on as long as you can.

And Pete wanted him and Sonny to last longer than this. He wanted to believe that this wasn’t the break that he’d be trying to hold together until they finally fell apart. Sonny still made him feel so _happy_ , more happy than he could've ever imagined himself being. So it couldn’t be the beginning of the end just yet. They could hold out for a while longer.

After all, it wasn’t _Sonny’s_ fault that he wanted to talk about his cousin. Nor was it Usnavi’s. It was really just Pete’s fault that he couldn’t understand the concept of being in a family like that. It wasn’t something they could fix, so trying to ignore it was all he could really do.

Pete stepped back and sighed at his work. For lack of real inspiration he had just scrawled his initials over random triangles of color. Not his best work. Packing up his spray cans, he settled on going home and going on a TV marathon.

His apartment was a tiny, first-floor, more-of-a-room-than-a-home kind of place. On one side was a sink, a stove top, and a mini-fridge with his rarely-used microwave on top (he’d gotten it from the dump and only used it if he was willing to run the risk of that particular meal exploding). In the opposite corner was his futon that doubled as a bed and a couch. The ancient TV got three whole channels and could show the right color maybe 85% of the time. The rest of the room was occupied mainly by clothes and, in one corner, a sizeable collection of Sonny’s stuff. He’d bought the place a while back after his dad kicked him out- and subsequently disappeared off the face of the Earth- with the meager savings he’d managed to take with him. Abuela Claudia had talked to one of the building superintendents and got him the cheapest place they had. Still yet, he barely scraped by on odd jobs for the neighbors (mainly painting their furniture and stuff) and selling t-shirts (a THRIVING business venture, thank you very much).

Pete folded up the futon and pushed it against the wall before turning on the TV and settling in to watch some Spanish soap opera. As the actors gasped and swooned and dramatically declared “ _TE AMO, LUCIA, TE AMO_ ” six times too many, his eyes slowly drooped shut and thoughts of Sonny finally drifted off into silence.

~~~

For four days Pete said scarcely a word to Sonny. Every time he would, there was Usnavi, or even just the abstract idea of Usnavi, that swooped in and interrupted them. And he tried to ignore it, he really did. But every time Sonny asked if he was okay he just smiled and nodded and looked away. And he absolutely despised it.

Unfortunately, Sonny was starting to catch on.

“Usnavi’s going over to Vanessa’s today and he’s probably gonna be out late,” he said, hopping up on the counter and popping a peanut m&m into his mouth. “Come over, I can make you dinner and we can watch something other than that stupid Spanish show.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Why’re you being so quiet?”

“What do you mean?”

Sonny opened his mouth to speak, but he must’ve thought better of it, because he shut his lips and shook his head.

“Never mind.”

The day passed much the same way, with Sonny keeping up a rather one-sided dialogue and Pete biting his tongue for fear of revealing his issues. Come nighttime, they ate microwaved macaroni and cheese in silence on Usnavi’s couch and watched some action movie with way too many cars.

As soon as some heavy metal music started and the movie faded into credits, Sonny turned the TV off, put his bowl on the ground and faced him with a glare. “Okay, Pete,” he declared. “You are not leaving this couch until you tell me what’s up.”

Pete stood. “Nothin’s up.” He turned to leave, but Sonny grabbed his hand.

“Something’s up, you haven’t said a single full sentence in, like, a week.”

“And _you_ haven’t said a full sentence without Usnavi in it,” he muttered before he could help himself.

“What?”

_Well, fuck. Good going, Pete._

He bit his lip. “Nothin’. Never mind.”

“No, Pete, what is it?”

He didn’t dare respond.

“Do… you think I talk about Usnavi too much?”

“No, that’s not it–”

“Then WHAT?”

“Just forget I said anything. It’s not your problem.”

There was a silence, then–

“What, you don’t think I can handle your problems?”

_Shit._

“No, that’s not what I meant–” Pete desperately tried to backtrack. But Sonny was seeing red now, and once he got going on something it was hard to stop him. Especially about this.

“Oh, but it is, right? ‘Sonny won’t understand, why bother telling him?’”

“No, you’re just–”

“Too little? Helpless? Is that it? ‘Cuz that’s what everyone thinks, Pete. You should know. And I thought you might think different, but I guess I was wrong.”

_Oh, no, no, no. Fucking shit._

“Sonny, I was just trying to keep you–”

“Don’t you DARE say you were trying to keep me safe,” he cried, standing to look Pete in the eye. “Don’t you DARE. You were trying to keep me safe? Protect me from the truth? Oh, yeah, let’s all just keep Sonny from what’s really going on, he can’t handle that all by his itty-bitty self.”

“Just listen–”

“No, you listen to ME! I’m not a baby that doesn’t understand the shit that happens here, okay? I _know_ what happens around here! And I can handle it just fine! _I don’t need you to keep me safe, Pete, I don’t need you for anything!_ ”

Pete’s heart dropped to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to hold tears back. Sonny’s face instantly softened into confusion, but before he could do anything else, Pete turned and ran. He was up and out the door before Sonny could say another word. He didn’t want to hear what came next.

_I don’t need you for anything._

An image of his dad flashed through his head as he ran down the stairs.

_“Why are you still here, you piece of shit? I don’t need you! GET OUT!”_

_There was his mom, fleeing out the door._

_“Mama–”_

_“Shut the fuck up, Pete. You don’t need her no more. Grow up.”_

_“But…” The tears started to prick at his eyes._

_“I SAID GROW THE FUCK UP!”_

_He wailed as his father threw him across the room._

Nine years later, the same thing again. Except it was him.

_“Fucking SHIT! I don’t need a lil’ boy like you hangin’ around, usin’ up my air.”_

_“I’m sorry–”_

_“I want you out by tomorrow, you hear? By sunup I want you gone. You lucky I’m even givin’ you that long. If I kicked you out now, your weak ass would be dead by morning.”_

_Pete stared at him._

_“Don’t just STAND there, idiot, I don’t need you! GET OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE!”_

That’s how it went. If something breaks, you throw it out. If it has cracks, if it doesn’t quite work the same, why keep it?

_I don’t need you for anything,_ Sonny had yelled. Which meant that he was done with it. Done with Pete. And Pete was such a fucking coward that he couldn’t even bear to hear him say the next words, the inevitable “we’re done, get outta here”, and so he ran.

Sinking to the ground against the wall outside of Sonny’s apartment, Pete dug his palms into his eyes and furiously tried to stop the tears from coming. _You can’t cry,_ he thought angrily. You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself. This was your own fucking fault.

It was a wonderful, _beautiful_ thing that he’d had with Sonny, and he’d managed to fucking break it. Just like that, he was back on the streets, next to the curb with the rest of the shit people threw out. And it was okay, the first time. When his dad kicked him out, he cracked a little but he could deal with it, because he had Sonny to keep him together. He had fled to the very same apartment he had just run from, and even though Usnavi flatly refused to let him stay, Sonny opened his window and let Pete climb in from the fire escape every night until he found his own place.

Now he didn’t even know what to do. Maybe he could just leave town this time, like his mother did, because now that he didn’t have Sonny, he had absolutely nothing. He could try to find a new place, and start over.

But as much as he tried to tell himself otherwise, Pete couldn’t bear to leave. There was no place for him, anyway. Anywhere he tried to go, he would still be cracked and they would still throw him out. Because as much as he told himself that he was being weak and childish and fucking _stupid,_ as much as he told himself he couldn’t have it, the only thing he would ever want was Sonny.

So when he first said something, Pete thought he was imagining it.

“Pete?”

But then it came again.

“Oh my God, Pete.”

He looked up, and there was Sonny looking down at him. For a moment, he looked at his wide eyes full of concern and wondered if Sonny still cared about him. Then _no,_ he reminded himself, _you’re being stupid._ He was broken. Nobody wanted to deal with a broken person. Sonny just wanted him out of his sight.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go,” Pete said quickly, inwardly cursing the weakness in his voice. He stood up and turned to leave, but then–

“Wait, what? No, please. Don’t. I don’t want you to go!”

_What?_

“I’m sorry I said all that stuff. It’s just… I was scared. I thought I was losing you, and _God,_ I was so scared.”

_What?_

“I _do_ need you, Pete. More than anything. Probably more than I should.”

“What?” Pete turned around, and– yes, he’d heard correctly– Sonny was still there, and Sonny was still talking to him.

“I just hate seeing you like this. All sad and quiet. Because it makes ME all sad and quiet. And I’m sorry I yelled at you, but I just wanted to make sure you didn’t leave me. I want to HELP you, okay? I care about you.”

“I-I thought you _wanted_ me to leave?”

Now Sonny was looking at him like he grew a second head. “What– when did I say that?”

“I just...” he trailed off. _Isn’t it obvious?_ thought Pete, confused. _Isn’t that what always happens?_

“Pete, no matter what I say, and no matter how mad I get, I will always want you there with me. And nothing’s gonna change that. I will always care about you, and whatever’s happenin’, I _promise,_ I’ll help you with it.”

Pete didn’t know what the hell Sonny was talking about, but he hadn’t made him leave yet, so he decided to keep his mouth shut. The silence was heavy upon them until finally Sonny broke it, his voice suddenly filled with uncertainty.

“Do you– do you _want_ me to stay?”

And now Sonny was looking at him with fear in his eyes, like that was an actual, legitimate question. Of _course_ Pete wanted him to stay. But was it that simple? If he said yes, could everything go back to the way it was before?

_It certainly can’t get worse,_ he reasoned. Slowly, he nodded. Before he could even speak, Sonny’s arms were around his waist and his face was buried in Pete’s chest.

“Good, because I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Pete looked down at him, not daring to move, immensely confused.

_What’s happening?_

Pete had a problem, Pete was a broken man, but there was Sonny, hugging him and forgiving him and promising he’d stay. Like he wasn’t a lost cause. Like it wasn’t a big deal. But that’s not how it worked, was it? Broken things get discarded, replaced. Like his dad had done with his mama. Like his dad had done with him.

Sonny had a different way of doing things. Maybe he did this all differently, too. Maybe, instead of throwing stuff out, Sonny knew how to stay, and fix it, and make it all better again. And if Sonny’s way made him feel like _this_ – made him feel happy and warm and safe– maybe Pete wanted to learn this new way, too.

Slowly, Pete wrapped his arms around him and held him close, letting that warmth rush over him again as Sonny buried himself deeper in his embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, can I just brag for a moment about my biggest accomplishment in life? Part 1 has exactly 38,000 words? Exactly 38,000. What would've been even BETTER was if it had exactly 96,000. But that's kind of a lot, and I'm more than satisfied with 38. I mean, wow. 
> 
> Also there were exactly 100 comments??? I mean first of all thank you guys for all the love (even though half of those were mine lol) but secondly THE EVENNESS UGH IT'S AMAZING
> 
> Ch. 6 Sneak Peek:  
> Vanessa had to give Usnavi credit: he made it all the way to her studio before dropping the box.


	6. Vanessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usnavi worked so hard on getting his date and Vanessa's gonna have to honor that.  
> Or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone else's account acting weird? The website formatting changes on a whim and I don't understand why. So lmk if there's an issue here, because I may or may not be able to actually see what I'm doing.

Vanessa had to give Usnavi credit: he made it all the way to her studio before dropping the box. All along the way he hadn’t complained a single time, but once he was at the stairs, that was it.

“Alright, ‘Nessa, I need a break.”

She sighed and stopped, leaning her own box against her hip. “Right here? C’mon, we’re almost there.”

“I didn’t know there would be so many _stairs_ involved, though.”

Vanessa snorted, turning back to see him wiping the sweat from his brow and panting quite heavily. “After we get these boxes up, we’re done,” she smiled. “I’m not unpacking today, so we can take as long of a break as you want.” Adding a wink to the end of the statement was all it took to make him perk up and pick up the box again.

“Alright studio, here we come!” exclaimed Usnavi, pushing past her and practically running up the steps. He stumbled a little but managed to catch himself before the box hit the floor, bounced right back up, and kept going.

Vanessa snorted again, bit her lip and walked up after him.

~~~

As soon as the boxes were safely tucked away in a corner, Usnavi was collapsed face-down on her old leather sofa. Whatever sparse furnishings the place had was the stuff the moving van had already brought from her apartment, so that couch was the only seat in the room. And she wasn’t about to sit on the floor before the carpet cleaning company came in on Thursday.

“Scoot over a bit?”

He shifted just a little so that she could squeeze onto one of the cushions. Once she was settled, he lay his head right next to her thigh and grinned.

“Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” replied Vanessa.

Every single day so far since she kissed him last, her heart broke just a little whenever she saw him. When she’d tried to get him to stay, the kiss was an act of desperation, a last resort. She didn’t think it’d actually work, honestly. She thought she’d been saying goodbye.

And then he said he was staying, and Vanessa was thrilled, of course, because who wouldn’t be? He was such a huge part of her life; that much would never change. He put a smile on her face every time she walked into his store. Still, a tiny weight settled upon her heart as she thought about what it really meant for him to stay. Because she knew she couldn’t keep pretending that she could be happy with him, and toying with his feelings forever. He really deserved better than that. He deserved someone who adored his every compliment and kissed him every time he wanted to be kissed and was more than just content to sit at home with him and cuddle and talk about nothing. There had to be someone who could love him as unconditionally and as loyally as he loved her. That was not Vanessa, but that’s the kind of girl he deserved.

_Or,_ Vanessa thought, _the kind of GUY he deserves._

Because that night he’d asked her out at Benny’s impromptu “welcome” party, there had been a startling new development: John Laurens.

Somehow, from what she’d gathered, Usnavi and John had basically become best friends in a matter of hours. From the way they shared glances over dinner and couldn’t stop giggling at each other, they looked the part, too. Beyond that, Vanessa couldn’t help but notice the way Usnavi looked at him: like he was looking at a really nice painting or some shit. His little blush and smile didn’t go past her whenever John would shove him playfully or compliment his coffee-making skills.

“What do you think about John?” asked Vanessa lightly. The question must’ve caught him off-guard, because he sat up abruptly to stare at her.

“What d’you mean?”

“Well, I mean, you seem pretty attached to him. Like, more so than anyone else.”

“Um… well, he’s my friend, and, uh- I have the right to hang out with my friends, right?”

“...Do you like him?” she pressed. She didn’t miss the panicky tone he tried to hide when he answered.

“I, uh– well, of course. I just told you, he’s my friend.”

“So you ONLY like him as a friend.”

He paused, looking very much like a trapped animal.

“I like YOU,” he finally protested. Vanessa giggled and shook her head.

“That’s pretty obvious. But it’s not what I asked.”

He looked like a fish, opening and closing his mouth cluelessly, and Vanessa had to laugh at him again.

“It’s _okay,_ Navi. You can admit it, I don’t mind. I actually think it’s kinda cute.”

It was _really_ cute, if she was being honest. John seemed so considerate, and funny, and they got along together so well. He wasn’t bad-looking, either.

“Wait, so you really... even if we're... you don't _care?_ ” he finally asked.

She looked at him sympathetically.

“Look, Usnavi. I like you. I really do. Just... this wouldn't work out, anyway. You wouldn’t _want_ me, you know?”

“What do you– of COURSE I’d want you! I wouldn’t have spent the last four years losing my mind over you if not!”

“Well, no, it’s different. You’re infatuated with me. You want me to return your sentiments, but you don’t actually want to… BE with me.”

Poor Usnavi looked so confused.

Vanessa sighed and turned to fully face him, taking his hand in hers. “Navi, what sounds better to you: someone who makes you feel loved, and special, or someone who’d rather go out and have fun all the time and make you compete for her attention?”

“I– I mean– but, you… you _kissed_ me?” It came out more like a question than a statement, and she felt her stomach twist again at his confusion.

“I know I did. And was it good?”

“Um– yeah? Of course, I–”

“I know how to kiss. Don’t patronize me.”

“Where is this even going?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I did, I said–”

“What were you thinking? How did you feel?”

Usnavi looked at her like she grew a second head, then stopped to think about it. He stared up at the ceiling like he was trying to relive the moment.

“Well, I– at first I was confused because you seemed so mad, and then all of a sudden you were kissing me. And then– and then, all I could think about was ‘oh my God, Vanessa’s kissing me,’ and then I started freaking about because I thought my breath stunk or I was doing something weird with my mouth and I didn’t know where I was supposed to put my hands and then… it was over.”

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound very enjoyable.”

“Well, yeah, the way I explained it wasn’t very happy.”

“But that’s what happened, wasn’t it?”

He paused, looking like he was about to argue, but then closed his mouth and nodded. “I guess I was too freaked out to enjoy it much.”

“I think, more than anything, you wanted to impress me, didn’t you? Make me feel the same way you felt about me?”

He looked like he was going to protest again, then stopped, nodded, and stared down at his feet.

“Hey,” she said gently, until reluctantly he looked back up at her. When he did, she leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. “You know what? It worked. Maybe not in the way you wanted it to, but I do love you, Usnavi. I love you and I care about you and you do so much for me that all I want for you is the best. And this? This is not the best. This is something that’s gonna make both of us end up unhappy. I don’t want that.”

“So why’d you do it?” Usnavi asked after a minute, frowning.

“Do what?”

“Why’d you kiss me?”

She sighed and gently squeezed his hand.

“I still don’t know for sure, but I’m really sorry I put you through that. When I kissed you, I thought you were leaving forever. And you were just so… so sad, you know? I wanted you to know that even if Abuela Claudia was gone, everyone still cared for you, and everyone was still there for you. I just... wanted to do what I could to make you happy again. I thought it was just a goodbye kiss.”

It was only partially true, but she couldn't say much more without revealing that whole business with Benny. Usnavi brought his hand up to his lips as if remembering the moment again, then looked at his hand wrapped in Vanessa’s, then back up at her.

“So that’s it, then? You’re officially friendzoning me?”

Vanessa laughed, and she felt a flood of relief as Usnavi grinned, too.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

He returned the laugh and fell backward to lie on the couch. “Well, that’s just great.” She couldn’t see his face, but she heard his smile as he said it.

“Okay, you're friendzoned after today, because I did promise you a date.”

He sat up. “Seriously? You’re gonna reject me and STILL make me take you out? Use me and lose me?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, shoving him away. “I’m not using you. Consider it a nice, friendly lunch for helping me move my stuff in.”

Usnavi rolled his eyes. “Sure. Let’s celebrate the day I get friendzoned by Vanessa.”

“No, we’re celebrating the day Vanessa uses her amazing guy skills to land you–” she poked him playfully– “the boy of your dreams!”

Usnavi scooted away again and groaned. “But I don’t even LIKE him like that!”

“Hah. Bullshit.”

“How would YOU know?”

“Navi, you’ve been giving me googly-eyes for, like, four years now. I know what it looks like. And it’s the exact same way you look at John.”

“Well, maybe he’s just–”

“Don’t even _try_ to defend yourself, man.”

“I– okay, _fine,_ ” admitted Usnavi, red-faced. “Maybe I like him a little. But that doesn’t mean anything. Like, I’m pretty sure that he’s not into dudes, anyway!”

Vanessa snorted. “I’d bet you anything he is.”

“How would YOU know?” he repeated incredulously. Vanessa smiled.

“You can just tell. When most guys look at you a certain way, you notice it when one of them doesn't.”

“You’re saying you have a… a _gaydar._ ”

Vanessa giggled. “In simple terms, yes. But more sophisticated than that.”

“So did you know about _me,_ then?”

“Did I know you were bi? No, I couldn’t tell that one, but you looked at me so differently I wouldn’t have been able to tell, anyway. I didn’t know until you told us.”

It had come out a couple of years ago at a party involving just a liiiittle too much alcohol and a whole lot of self-realization. Thankfully, nobody had really minded much. Vanessa would’ve fought anyone who thought otherwise.

Usnavi frowned.

“What is it?” asked Vanessa.

“I still feel like John would’ve told me something like that.”

“Well, maybe things are different where he’s from. What if Sonny hadn’t grown up knowing you were okay with it? Do you think he would’ve told you when he did? Do you think he would’ve even known himself?”

Sonny came out to them as bisexual a couple years ago, and just like the boy himself, the day was a happy one. Benny gave him a double high-five. Nina hugged him and told him how brave he was. Vanessa offered to fight anyone in his honor. And Usnavi let him throw a slushie party after-hours and create the most garish, colorful combinations Vanessa could ever dream of perceiving.

Usnavi frowned, mulling it over. “I mean… maybe not as early as he did. But it’s not like I would ever- I _told_ him it was fine.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think they do that in South Carolina.”

He frowned even deeper. “So… you think John doesn’t even know… who he is?”

Vanessa shook her head. ”Or if he does, he won’t dare say it aloud. And you know what that means?”

“What?”

“It means _you’re_ gonna have to show him what he’s missing out on,” she replied, waggling her eyebrows. Usnavi sat back on the couch and groaned.

“ _No._ Stop. New subject. Can we go eat now? I’m getting hungry. There’s a great pizza place that’s not too far from here.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes but decided to drop the subject. There was plenty of time to talk about it later, and pizza actually sounded amazing at the moment. “How do you know more about my own neighborhood than I do?”

He shrugged. “I don’t, really. I just googled it ‘cuz I figured I was taking you on a date and I might as well know where I was going.” He grinned at her sheepishly and she saw just a hint of the admiration that was usually bursting from his seams. It was still there; she knew it would probably always be there. It was just a lot less poignant now, a little more subdued.

“Okay, let’s go.”

They got up and walked out side-by-side, arms barely brushing as they strolled along. Usnavi rolled up his sleeve and Vanessa had another laugh at the directions to the pizza place he’d written there in black ink.

“I’m paying,” he said suddenly, about five minutes into the walk. “Since it’s still technically a date and all.”

“Fine, but I’m paying back in relationship advice.” She elbowed him in the shoulder.

“Hah! Thanks. I could really use relationship advice from the girl who’s held– what– half a serious relationship in her entire life?”

“That’s half more than you.”

“Nessa, you had your half _with me._ ”

Vanessa snorted and rolled her eyes. "If you call that half a relationship, then I've had about forty."

As it turned out, hanging out with Usnavi was exponentially more enjoyable when he wasn’t so nervous. They found an abundance of things to talk about all the way to the Pizzeria, where he recounted story after story of how he’d tried to impress her (much to his embarrassment) through mouthfuls of admittedly delicious pizza. In return, she gave him her best dating advice ( _also_ much to his embarrassment) for impressing the boy of his dreams.

“Like first of all, get your filthy elbows off the table.”

Usnavi complied so quickly that he ended up flipping his plate and projectile-flinging a piece of pizza into his shirt.

Vanessa almost choked on her own slice, she was laughing so hard. He flipped her the finger, but couldn’t stop laughing even as he brushed the red tomato chunks away. They had quite a laugh at everything, really, as the day went on. After he paid the check, they migrated from the Pizzeria to a nearby park to an ice cream parlor and before Vanessa knew it, night was falling. Along the way, several people complimented them on being a “cute couple.” Usnavi would interrupt Vanessa’s protests by throwing an arm around her and saying, “why, thank you,” and then giving her an enormously gigantic wink and thumbs-up that made her burst out laughing again.

Eventually, they made it back to her apartment, and Usnavi flopped himself down on the couch again. Vanessa just shook her head and made her way to the kitchen to put the leftovers in the fridge.

“Hey Nessa?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s the rule on staying over at your date’s house?”

She trudged back over to the living room before replying. “Rule number nine: don’t sleep with your significant other on the first date. Or second date, really.”

Usnavi was lying facedown on the couch, so his reply was muffled.

“What did you say?”

He lifted his head. “It’s a good thing we’re not dating then.”

Vanessa smirked. “Rule number ten: If you’re planning on dating someone, there is no such thing as ‘platonically sleeping’ with someone else.” Usnavi groaned and rolled over so he was on his back.

“I wasn’t thinking like that. Can I _please_ just stay the night? I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to. I’ll be outta your hair by the time you wake up.”

Vanessa chuckled and shoved his feet off the couch so she could sit. “I’m just messing with you, of course you can stay. Why do you want to, though?”

“Well, I kinda told Sonny I was goin’ on a date with you, so it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’s invited Pete to our apartment by now. And I just don’t want to risk walking into the room and– eugh.” He pulled the most ridiculous face Vanessa had ever seen and she laughed.

“ ‘Course. Let’s keep away from that stuff for _juuuust_ a while longer.”

“If you could keep me away forever, that’d work, too.”

“I guarantee you, once you get with John, you’re gonna wish you hadn’t wished that.” Usnavi covered his face and rolled back over.

“I really appreciate all your advice, Vanessa, but I’m a hundred percent sure that’s not gonna happen.”

“I disagree,” she shot back lightly.

“That’s a bad disagreement.”

“Care for a wager, then?”

“I’d wager that he’s not even gay.”

“Ten bucks says that I can prove he is. And another ten bucks says he’s into you.”

Usnavi sat up to laugh in her face. “Hah! You’re on.”

They shook hands and Usnavi fell back onto the couch, singing something about being twenty dollars richer by the end of the summer. Vanessa just shook her head and sauntered away, smiling.

She and Usnavi walked arm-in-arm into the bodega the following morning. Any uncertainty she may have had about the wager was gone when she saw the look on John’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody enlighten me as to why football is such a big thing in America
> 
> Ch. 7 Sneak Peek:  
> "C'mon. Let's go inside, it's getting cold out here."


	7. Sonny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's confused, Chapters 5 and 6 are happening on the same night. Now here's Sonny to try to figure out what was going on with Pete. And also what the fuck is going on with Usnavi. And also John. But nobody would answer him if he asked.
> 
> Y'know, if I had to rewrite Part 2 in one sentence, it would be "what the fuck is going on."

“C’mon. Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold out here.”

He felt Pete nod and slowly pulled away, looking up and smiling lightly. He felt a rush of relief when his boyfriend smiled back, and slipped their hands together to pull him back inside.

Pete hadn’t been talking much for a long, long time, and Sonny had no idea why. He sorta-kinda exploded that night because he’d been so frustrated with Pete not telling him what he was doing wrong, and not giving him a way to fix it. When Pete ran out, the confusion got even worse, and beyond that was a terror that he’d completely messed up, and he would never come back.

But he seemed okay, now. At least, he seemed okay with Sonny. Something was still bothering him, whatever something made him run out in the first place. He still wanted to know what it was, but if Pete didn’t want to share it, he wasn’t going to risk losing him again to find it out.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“So what’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Pete shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s not you. I just… I was being stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry. It’s not stupid. You can tell me, you know. That’s what I’m here for.”

Pete gave him a wary side-glance and sighed.

“Okay, okay,” Sonny conceded quickly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I promise, if you want to, I’m not gonna think it’s stupid.”

Pete simply squeezed his hand in response. “Thanks.”

They walked the rest of the way back to the apartment in silence, thought it wasn’t nearly as heavy as silences in the previous days. Things were better, that was for sure.

Eventually, they ended up back in the living room, Sonny’s head against Pete’s chest as they half-sat, half-laid against the couch. Pete’s fingers were slowly running through his hair and he smiled to himself. They stayed there for a while, talking about nothing until Sonny’s eyelids started to get heavy. Pete’s hand had migrated from his head to his chest, slowly tracing patterns against the fabric of his shirt.

This. This was good. This was familiar.

The topic of conversation had somehow drifted to Pete's dysfunctional microwave. “I can’t believe you haven’t gotten rid of that thing yet,” Sonny mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“Why should I? It’s done me good so far.”

“Done you _good_? Your definition of ‘good’ needs some fixing.”

“Well, maybe _your_ definition needs some fixin’. It taught me some good lessons, that microwave.”

“Yeah, like how to sleep with one eye open, I bet. I’m getting you a new one for your birthday. I care about you too much to let your cause of death be microwave explosion.”

“Aw. That’s the most romantic thing you've ever said,” mused Pete. Sonny snorted.

“Your definition of ‘romance’ needs some fixing, too. I’ll get you a dictionary for Christmas.”

Pete didn’t reply, and they sat in a long silence. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, if the sudden tension in the air was anything to go by, but no words came. Finally, he breathed a heavy sigh and his fingers stopped tracing his shirt.

“It was your cousin I was upset about.”

He didn’t need to say anything else for Sonny to realize that the subject had changed. Sonny turned his head up to look at him, but Pete was tactfully not meeting his eyes.

“I knew it. I was talking about him too much, wasn’t I?”

Pete finally met his eyes to shake his head quickly. “No, no, you didn’t. You didn’t do anything. And neither did he.”

Sonny waited as Pete took a deep breath, as if steeling himself to speak again.

“It’s just… I don’t… you just care about him so much, and I’m stupid, but I guess I’m just jealous. No, not jealous, but… fuck. This sounded better in my head.”  
Sonny adjusted himself so that he could look Pete straight in the eye. “It’s okay, I get it. But you don’t gotta be jealous of it, because for one, there’s no way in _hell_ I’d ever like Usnavi better than you.”

The smallest of smiles tugged at Pete’s mouth. Sonny pressed on.

“C’mon. You know how it is, caring for family and caring for friends. It’s just different. Don’t you have family that you care about? Even sometimes when you don’t want to?”

Pete frowned and shook his head.

“...Really? Not even one? A family friend? A neighbor’s kid?”

“Uh… No, not that I remember. It was always just me and my dad… and then it was just me.”

Sonny knew Pete never had the best relationship with his dad, but he’d always thought there was at least one other person in his family.

“ _Nobody?_ ”

“Nope.”

“Jeez, Pete, your family is _fucked up._ ”

He let out a tiny chuckle. “You’re tellin’ _me._ ”

Pete’s laugh was like springtime after a long winter. Sonny couldn’t help it. He leaned forward to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

“Okay. I’ll try to talk about him less, I promise.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.”

“Are you KIDDING? I _want_ to talk about him less. Everyone could do with a little less Usnavi in their lives.”

Pete laughed again, longer this time. Sonny pressed a kiss to his lips, but couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the same time.

“But seriously, I can stop. I mean… It’d probably be good for me. To care less, I mean.”

“You can’t say that.”

Sonny sighed. “Yeah, I can. I just… I dunno, I’ve been worrying about him all the time lately.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he was going out, hanging with John and Benny, and doing his own stuff, and… I dunno. I thought he was gonna leave again. I guess I was trying to stop that from happening.”

“You think he’d _leave_?” asked Pete, frowning.

“Not leave, I guess, but just… forget about me. I guess I never got over that whole DR thing. It made me feel like– feel like I don’t _matter_ enough for him to think about.”

This time, it was Pete who brought his lips up to meet Sonny’s.

“No, you matter a lot.”

“To you. I know, I know. And that would be enough, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m so _unimportant_ to Usnavi,” he sighed.

“No, I meant you matter to _him._ ”

Sonny frowned, not following.

“I mean, that’s why he thought he could leave, right?" continued Pete. "Because he knew he wouldn’t have to worry about you. You would hold down the fort here. I think if he thought you wouldn’t make it on your own, he woulda stayed.”

That was a perspective Sonny had never even considered before. He stared at Pete, who shrugged. “I mean, maybe. I dunno.”

“Pete, that was some deep shit.”

Pete let out another laugh before coming back up to kiss him again.

“I try.”

Sonny pressed their mouths together just to wipe the smug smile off Pete’s lips. It didn’t work. Which he supposed wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, because it was the dorkiest smile he’d ever seen.

“Y’know–” Pete began, but then was interrupted by another kiss. “This is another reason–” another one, deeper this time- “why I can’t be– mad at Usnavi. Because– when he’s gone- I get to do– this.”

He slid his hands up his shirt and pressed his mouth even harder against Sonny’s. Sonny sighed against his lips, relishing in the feeling, but then pulled away.

“Yeah, no. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Number one, you _totally_ ruined it by making me think of my cousin while you kissed me. Just… eugh,” he laughed, shaking his head, “never do that again. And number TWO–” he punctuated his second point with a final kiss to Pete’s indignant pout– “he’s on a date with Vanessa. Which means he sure as hell ain’t spending the night. You should probably be gone by the time he gets back. The last thing I need is for him to walk in and see us here making out on his couch, 'cuz then he’s gonna have an aneurysm or some shit.”

Reluctantly, Sonny pushed himself off of Pete’s chest to let him stand, which he did slowly.

“Usnavi the cockblock, back at it again,” he muttered, but he grinned good-naturedly.

“It’s the only thing he’s good for. He’s so good, in fact, he even does it to himself.”

Pete chuckled again, shaking his head. “Alright. Can’t argue with that. I guess I’m headin’ out, then.”

“I guess you are.”

They stood grinning for a long moment before Pete pressed one last kiss to his forehead and left without another word.

Sonny smiled to himself, finding himself content to just stand there until Usnavi came through the door. The dude wouldn’t like that very much, though, so reluctantly he turned and headed for his bed. He’d wager everything he had on his cousin coming home soon and overanalyzing everything he might’ve done wrong, and Sonny wanted very much to be asleep by then.

~~~

When Usnavi walked into the bodega arm-in-arm with Vanessa, Sonny couldn’t help but do a little victory dance. Or, actually, a not-so-little victory dance. Pete laughed at his flailing arms as he skipped around the bodega before turning to Usnavi.

“Who’d’ve thought. Usnavi got game.”

His older cousin blushed and untangled his arm from Vanessa, who was laughing at Sonny, too.

“Whatever. Really we just–”

“Nah,” Vanessa cut in, “nobody needs to know what happened between us.” She finished the sentence with a conspiratorial wink.

Usnavi sputtered, eyes wide, but Sonny interrupted him before he could form a coherent sentence. “NO WAY!” he laughed, running at his cousin to give him a slap on the back. “Usnavi’s a man now!”

He could hardly bring himself to believe it when Usnavi hadn’t come home the night before, but here was the proof, right in front of his eyes. And with _Vanessa,_ of all women? Maybe his older cousin deserved a little more credit than he got.

In response, Usnavi just shook his head, looking more than a little flustered, and headed over to the back.

“Hey, John.”

“Hi there.”

John was standing over by the counter, grinning but looking rather– uncomfortable? There was a strange look in his eyes, and an almost forced enthusiasm in his smile. Pete must’ve noticed, too, because he nudged Sonny and looked at him as if to say, ‘what’s up with John?’

Sonny just shrugged. He wouldn’t get an answer if he asked.

“I can’t believe Sonny and Pete opened the bodega AGAIN,” Usnavi continued from the back, where the aroma of coffee began to waft up and through the bodega. “I go out and Sonny wakes up early to open the store. The world’s turned upside down.”

Vanessa chuckled. “Good to know I still have that effect on you. Hey– I’ll see you later, I gotta get to the salon.”

“Bye, Vanessa.”

Usnavi came back over to the counter to wave her off like he was in middle school or something. “Really? She doesn’t even get a goodbye kiss?” asked Sonny. Vanessa just giggled again and walked out, the bodega bell ringing behind her.

There was a long moment where Usnavi just stared at the door after she left with a strange smile on his face. It wasn’t his usual I-just-talked-to-Vanessa smile; it seemed more… muted. Or something. Sonny opened his mouth to mention it, but then suddenly Usnavi was up again and back to tending the coffee.

_Oh, well,_ he thought. _I wouldn’t get an answer if I asked, anyway._

“So, what’ve you been up to while I was gone, Sonny?” Usnavi continued, filling a water pot at the sink.

Sonny glanced over at his boyfriend, who just shrugged noncommittally as if to say ‘tell him if you want to.’ But Pete’s story was not his to tell, so he just replied, “Nothing.”

Usnavi looked back at them suspiciously, but didn’t press the matter.

“What’ve YOU been up to while you were gone, Usnavi?” John leaned over the counter and waggled his eyebrows.

“You heard Vanessa. It’s a secret.” Usnavi didn’t even turn around. He was probably trying to hide the blatantly obvious blush rising on his neck and ears.

“Aw, c’mon, Vanessa’s gone now. Give us the dirty details,” Sonny pressed.

“You’re too young for the _dirty details,_ ” Usnavi shot back, putting air quotes around the last phrase.

“AHA! So there WERE dirty details!”

“No!” He squeaked, digging the heel of his hand into his forehead. “No, that’s not what I meant. It wasn’t even like that. It was strictly professional.”

“Professional?” John repeated incredulously.

“Didn't know you were into that sorta thing,” Pete commented, and Sonny lost it. He cackled as Usnavi buried his face in his hands and banged it repeatedly against the refrigerator.

“Pete, I was _just_ starting to warm up to you.”

“Hey, man, it’s not MY fault you got a wild–”

“OUT!”

Sonny cackled again as Pete pecked his forehead and whispered “that was worth it” before being chased out by Usnavi’s broom.

“Okay, I gotta go get something from home, I’ll be back...” he said, before turning to follow Pete, but Usnavi whacked him with the broom and glared.

“Um, no, young man, you _work_ here,” he argued, tossing it to him.

“Yep, I do,” Sonny said, tossing it back. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Sonny, I swear to god, if you leave this store ONE MORE TIME, I’m chasing you back in and you’re not gonna–”

“YOU’RE gonna chase me in. Really.” Fitness-wise, Usnavi was probably even worse than Benny. And that was saying something.

“Fine. I’m gonna make John chase you back in and then you’re not leaving until school starts again.”

_Eugh._ School. Why did Usnavi have to bring that up? Sonny groaned and took the broom from Usnavi’s hand.

“Fine. So long as you never mention that shithole again.”

“School?”

“Yeah, that one!”

“What a hypocrite. You talk about wanting the barrio children educated and you don’t even wanna get an education yourself.”

“Because school SUCKS! That’s what I’m sayin’, if we had a better system, like one with computers like all the rest, instead of the underfunded fossils we have that don’t even WORK, then more kids would actually wanna STAY IN SCHOOL–”

“Okay there, hotshot. Let’s not get into this again. Just put the broom down before you break something.”

Unbeknownst to Sonny he had started swinging the broom around in his rant.

“Oh. Sorry, John.”

Slowly, John put his arms down where they had been guarding his face.

“‘S Fine.”

Usnavi giggled as he made his way back over to the coffee. _Giggled. _Since when did Usnavi giggle? Did Vanessa do that to him? Before he could comment on it, Usnavi spoke again. Oh, well. He wouldn’t’ve gotten an answer if he asked.__

__“Hey, speakin’ of school–” Sonny groaned in exasperation– “You burned through… what, three weeks of summer? Isn’t it time to start thinkin’ about where you’re going to apply for college?”_ _

__“You REALLY had to go there, man? C’mon, I got like two months left of freedom.”_ _

__“But the second senior year starts, it’s go time. There’s gonna be no time to lounge around drinking slushies all day, no time to decide where you’re going–”_ _

__“No time to work at this bodega and hear you naggin’ me all the time?” Sonny grumbled. He expected Usnavi to get all mad and drop the issue like he always did, but his older cousin actually stopped in his wiping down the counter, appearing to consider his point._ _

__“Hmmm. I think you’re right, Son. With all that homework and application stuff, I don’t know how much time you’ll have to be in here.”_ _

__“Wait… you’re… you’re for real?”_ _

__“Yeah. I think after this summer, you shouldn’t work the bodega anymore.”_ _

__“You’re kidding.” If this was a joke Sonny was literally going to murder him._ _

__“I’m not.”_ _

__“YES!!!” Sonny did another victory dance– two more months and he was out of that store forever. He didn’t know why everything was suddenly going his way, but he wasn’t complaining about it._ _

__“Which DOESN’T mean you’re home free,” continued Usnavi, raising his voice to be heard over Sonny’s dancing. “It means you’re gonna devote all that extra time to your college apps.”_ _

__“Still, it means I’m outta here.”_ _

__“Well, I’m probably still gonna need your help once in a while. I can run this store on my own, but if I need an extra set of hands–”_ _

__“I’ll help,” John spoke up suddenly._ _

__Usnavi turned to him, and so did Sonny. John was still sipping the coffee Usnavi had given him and watching their conversation amusedly._ _

__“What?” Usnavi asked._ _

__“I mean, if you’ll have me. I got nothing better to do, anyway, so I can be an extra set of hands.”_ _

__“You wanna work here?” Sonny asked incredulously._ _

__John shrugged. “I wasn’t thinkin’ bout _workin’_ , just helpin’ out. But come to think of it, I should probably get a job before my dad cuts me off his money.” He turned to Usnavi. “Lookin’ to hire?”_ _

__“I s’pose I am,” Usnavi responded. He was grinning, but there seemed to be a strange glint in his eyes. Sonny thought it looked familiar, but couldn’t quite place it. He was going to ask, but John interrupted. Oh, well. He wouldn’t’ve gotten an answer if he asked._ _

__“Great. I’d love to apply.”_ _

__“There’s no need for that, since OBVIOUSLY nobody else wants to work here, anyway,” Usnavi replied, shooting a pointed glance at Sonny._ _

__“What do I do, then?”_ _

__“Start your training.” Usnavi grinned and offered a hand to shake, which John took quickly._ _

__“Welcome to the bodega team.”_ _

__“Pleasure to be here,” John responded, and Sonny snorted._ _

__“Well, I guess now you got an extra hand, you won’t be needing me around–”_ _

__“Hold up, Sonny, you still got a two-month sentence left to serve here.”_ _

__Sonny groaned. “C’mon, man, you know the saying. Three’s a crowd. Wouldn’t want the customers to feel suffocated now, would ya?”_ _

__Usnavi rolled his eyes and grabbed Sonny’s arm, dragging him behind the counter._ _

__“As senior employee, your job is to show our new worker the ropes.”_ _

__So now, instead of cruising through the rest of the summer and being done with working, Sonny had to train an employee to despise his job as much as he did. Fantastic._ _

__“Fine. John, come with me.”_ _

__“Where are we goin’?”_ _

__“We’ll start out back first. I’ll show you all the best places to hide out when you need a break from Usnavi’s constant nagging.”_ _

__“Okay, sounds great.”_ _

__He didn’t miss Usnavi’s double-bird-flip as he led John past him and to the store room._ _

__“Oh, and by the way, Usnavi, how much for this?” John stopped and raised his cup._ _

__“Workers get their coffee on the house,” Usnavi replied, giving John a smile before turning back to ring up a customer._ _

__John hadn’t had to pay for his coffee any OTHER time, either. Sonny was going to retort with a snappy question about what exactly constituted employment, but Usnavi was already chatting with his customer._ _

__Oh, well. He wouldn’t’ve gotten an answer if he asked._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends  
> I'm taking a bit of an indefinite hiatus because three million things all started happening at once. I'm hoping to get back on a regular schedule by like February. I'll try to post when I can, but it's not going to be nearly as often or regular.  
> Bear with me, I still love y'all :')


	8. Nina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nina's sad. Benny's not there to help. Sonny is, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pokes head out from literal hibernation*  
> Here's a chapter I still love y'all  
> *goes back to hibernation*

Nina sighed and put her phone down. She flopped back onto the old leather armchair and picked up the novel laying face-down on the coffee table, curling up comfortably but not being able to bring herself back into the story. Sighing again, she read the same sentence for the eighth time and put the book back down, electing instead to stare out the window.

Benny couldn’t join her for lunch. Again. Nor could he yesterday, or the day before that. Or the day before the day before that.

Things had been great– no, _spectacular_ at the beginning. Benny brought her coffee every morning and they sat at Bennett Park or the fire escape or Nina’s room and just talked about nothing. He was so sweet and caring and courteous and at first, Nina couldn’t believe she’d gotten him to like her. Even the beginning of their relationship was perfect: they’d shared their first kiss right at the finale of the grand firework show that first night of the blackout. It seemed too good to be true, and now it seemed she was right.

The change had started gradually– first, he couldn’t make it to their morning walk in the park, so he had rescheduled for lunch. Then, there was John, so their picnic fell through, but it was fine because John was so great and funny and got along with everyone (especially Usnavi) so well, and he totally deserved that welcome party. But then, their usual meetings just seemed to dissolve into a mess of things to do and apology texts.

Suddenly, Benny always had something else: “sorry, I promised I’d help John unpack today” or “I can’t, I’m in the bodega trying to help Usnavi with his cash register.” So she’d schedule something when they were both free, only to be met with an “I’m so sorry, Nina, something just came up.” Which led to this morning, when he suddenly make it to the lunch that she’d so carefully fit between his “thing uptown” and “meeting with this guy downtown”. Nina had tried to understand, she truly did. Benny had great ambitions and he was willing to do what it took to reach them, so it was no wonder he always had something to do. But she thought maybe he valued their limited time together as much as she did.

What was she supposed to do? Could she just let things go on like this? Nina was the one everyone came to for advice, and she was always glad to lend her knowledge out, but her own love life felt just as foreign to her as Russian or Chinese. She felt quite lost, especially with no one to go to for help.

Abuela Claudia would’ve been able to tell her what to do. Abuela had always been fluent in the ways of love.

Nina looked up to the ceiling. _What am I going to do, Abuela? What would you tell me if you were still here?_

Immediately, she knew the answer. _Paciencia y fe, Nina._ Patience and Faith.

It was all a matter of time. If she was patient, would Benny come back to her again? Did she have faith that he would? She remembered the flowers he always left on her doorstep, and all the notes he pushed into her hands when he’d only had time to say hello in passing. Benny felt the same way that she did; she had faith in that. Maybe she just had to be more patient, and he would work everything out eventually. She picked up her phone and looked at his text again.

**Mi amor**  
_Received:_ Nina, I’m so, so, so sorry, something just came up and I don’t think I’m gonna make our lunch.

Nina had read somewhere that smiling can actually boost your mood. She tried for a small smile and typed a response.

**Mi amor**  
_Sent:_ It’s ok, I’m still going to eat at home though so you’re welcome to show up when you can. Te quiero mucho, Benny  <3

He didn’t respond, and he didn’t show up, either. Her smile didn’t last very long.

~~~

“Why the long face, Nina?” Sonny asked leaning over the counter and looking at her quizzically. 

They were in the bodega; Nina had gotten tired of staring out her window. The De La Vegas, she knew, could always brighten her day.

“It’s nothing, really. Just tired.”

“Oh, please, I’ve been staring at you all my life, I know when something’s not right.”

Nina giggled and shoved him from across the counter. Ever since she came back from Stanford, she noticed that the little starry-eyed kid she used to babysit had grown and changed so much, but bless his heart, he’d always continue his flirty banter. Sure it was different: Nina could tell it was all in good fun, a simple reminder of old times, but still it was endearing.

“Okay, okay, fine, you got me.”

“Is it boy troubles? Ya finally realized you picked the wrong man?” He pressed, waggling his eyebrows.

She smiled- a real smile- and shook her head.

“I bet it is. I bet you’re down because you’ve realized you missed out on this–” he gestured to himself– “and now you’re too late.”

Nina laughed and threw one of the stray Skittles on the counter at him. “You know what, you’re right, Sonny. I’ve had a terrible lack of bad pickup lines lately and I’m totally missing them. That’s actually why I came here… I just _had_ to see you again.”

Sonny pretended to think hard about what Nina said, stroking a nonexistent beard. “Hmmm… I _am_ irrestistible, aren’t I?”

“You’re the light and I'm a moth,” Nina deadpanned, holding back a smirk.

“Well… though I shall be unwaveringly loyal to my boyfriend–” just saying the word made him break into a smile, she noticed– “I guess I shall always hold a soft spot in my heart for my first love. Just for you, Nina Rosario, I will pretend to entertain your fancy to your heart’s content.”

“Thank you, Sonny. If only all people could be as generous as you,” she replied, failing to hold back her own smile.

“No, but seriously,” Sonny continued, leaning across the counter again. “Is it Benny? Do I need to kick his ass for you?”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Why? What happened?”

Nina sighed. “Nothing, really. It’s just– well, I gotta ask: has Benny seemed… _busy_ to you lately?”

Sonny frowned. “Well, come to think of it, he never really stays to talk anymore. He always gets a call or a message or something, and has to run off again. So… yeah, actually.”

She nodded. _At least,_ she thought, _he’s like this ALL the time and not just with me._

“Why? Do you think he’s been cheating or something?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just… he hasn’t been around much. Even when we plan things, he always has to cancel.”

“Maybe you should ask HIM about it. You know Benny, how he needs help with stuff but he’s too proud to admit it. Maybe this is just another one of those things.”

“That’s… wow, that’s actually good advice, Sonny. Since when did you become a relationship expert?”

He grinned proudly. “Maybe I’ve _always_ been one and you just never noticed.”

“I doubt it.”

He scoffed indignantly, but she ignored him. “Thanks, though. And speaking of relationships… how’s Pete been treating you?”

Sonny grinned so wide even his ears perked up at the mention of Pete’s name. He didn’t even need to answer her question to know what that meant.

“Aww, little Sonny is totally smitten!” she squealed, hugging him across the counter.

“Am not,” he muttered, staring at his feet, but his smile and poorly concealed blush said otherwise.

“I’m happy you’re so happy. You deserve everything you could possibly get.”

“I _am_ happy. Pete’s just– he’s so…” Sonny held out his hands as if trying to grab the right word out of the air, then dropped them in resignation. “Ya know?”

Nina laughed and nodded. “I know. Or– I used to know. Now I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t worry, Benny knows if he messes up he’ll have to answer to ME,” Sonny said, flexing his arms.

“Thanks,” Nina laughed, poking him in his exposed ribs where she knew he was ticklish. He jerked backward with an indignant “HEY!”

“I’m gonna talk to him. See if your advice does me any good. But I'll be back soon. I forgot how much I missed talking to you.”

He smiled again, almost reminiscent of those days when she'd babysit him and accept the little dandelion bouquets he picked just for her. Once again she was struck by how much he'd grown. “Bye, Nina. Just lemme know- seriously, about the ass-kicking thing. I’m your man.”

On the walk home, she smiled to herself as she thought about Sonny. It was amazing that he found someone that made him so happy– and PETE, nonetheless. She wouldn't've had him pegged as one to care about someone else, but the little moments she saw of them together seemed to prove otherwise: when Pete squeezed his hand when Sonny seemed lost in thought, when Sonny’s face lit up when Pete kissed his forehead softly before they parted ways.

Benny used to be able to make her feel like that, she remembered. He was so sweet and gentle and kind and he use to make her forget whatever she was thinking about with a simple hand around her waist or a kiss on the cheek. Maybe if she wasn’t so worried that she was losing him all the time, she’d be able to feel like that again. She certainly hoped so.

She fumbled with her house key while walking up the steps, but when she looked up, she stopped in her tracks.

“Nina!”

“ _Benny?_ ”

~~~

“I’m so, so sorry,” Benny said as he sat next to Nina on the couch. “I should’ve been here more often. I just… I can’t.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

He sighed and checked his phone for the twelfth time since they’d sat down.

“It’s just… all sorts of stuff. Something new, all the time.”

Nina knew– or maybe just _wanted_ to know– that Benny would never hide anything from her. Still, there were the doubts that never left the back of her mind.

“I just find it hard to believe that there are so many things in your life that are more important than… us.”

Benny looked like he desperately wanted to say something, so she waited. And waited. And waited. Finally–

“Nina– you know I love you. I do. I really do– I love you so much and it hurts that I make you feel like this all the time.”

“So why do you do it?”

“I’m not TRYING to, please believe me! I send you flowers, I write you letters–”

“And I get them, and I love them, but they’re not you.”

“I know, I know. It shouldn’t replace me. It _doesn’t_ replace me, and I’m sor–”

“Don’t,” Nina interrupted. To her, Benny saying sorry had become one of those words that you say until it becomes an abstract sound formed by a singular sequence of mouth movements.

He stared at her with fear in his eyes. “Nina–”

“Benny, I love you, I really do. I just don’t like waiting for something if it isn’t gonna come.”

There was that look again– the look that told her he really, really wanted to say something.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

She waited even longer, but Benny stayed silent. He looked almost tortured, like the words he wanted to say were burning his tongue, but they never came out.

“Is there something going on?” she tried again.

She waited even longer still until finally, Benny spoke. “Tomorrow morning on the fire escape. I _promise,_ I’ll be there. You have my word.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. She could see it on his face. It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, either.

“How can I trust you?” Her voice broke halfway through and the sentence ended in a whisper. Benny’s face grew frightened again and he moved to take her hand, but she pulled it away.

“What makes this so different from today? Or yesterday? Or the day before? How do I know you care about me?”

“Nina, you know I love y–”

“No, I know you’ve said it a hundred times. In all sorts of languages. I also heard you say I’m sorry, and I promise, and it’ll be better. But I don’t _know,_ and I CAN’T know it’s true because you haven’t shown me it is.”

“Nina–”

“And no matter how many times you apologize, you go right back to whatever it is you’re keeping from me. What is it? Is it the dispatch?”

“No, it’s not–”

“Is it another girl?” It hurt to say the words out loud, and for a moment she was scared that Sonny might be right. To her minimal relief, Benny shook his head vigorously.

“No, GOD no, Nina, I’d never–”

“Then what IS it?”

“I’d tell you if I could, but–”

“WHY? Why can’t you just tell me? Benny, if you’re keeping secrets from me, how can I trust you at all? If this is something so important to keep from me, then maybe I should just go–”

“I’m planning Abuela Claudia’s funeral!” Benny finally blurted. As soon as he said the words he slapped a hand over his mouth, as if he wanted to take them back. But there they were.

Abuela Claudia’s _funeral?_ THAT’S what had him so flustered?

“Really?”

Slowly, he took his hand away from his mouth and nodded slowly, cautiously. There was a strange tentative look in his eyes that Nina couldn’t quite decipher. “I– I… well, Usnavi was going to leave and we were still trying to convince you to go back to Stanford so I figured if– if we were gonna have one then I’d have to plan it. So I– I started but it turns out there’s a whole lotta stuff involved.”

“Oh, geez, why didn’t you _tell_ me? I could’ve helped you!” She grabbed his hand as a flood of relief continued to rush through her. Benny was just being his sweet self and planning a funeral because everyone else was busy. That was it. That was what she had been so worried about.

He shrugged helplessly. He still looked conflicted, but before long he blinked and turned to look down at his hands.

“I guess… I guess I didn’t want you to think that I couldn’t plan her funeral because I didn’t care about her as much as you did.”

“Oh, Benny.”

She leaned over to hug him around the waist. Slowly, he leaned back into her embrace, but he still couldn’t meet her eyes.

“I don’t think that. Nobody thinks that. I know planning something like that is hard and I love you for even _trying_ it. But I’ll help you, okay? I can’t stand seeing you so busy and if helping plan this makes that go away, then I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

Benny shut his eyes tight, as if he were in pain, and Nina softly stroked his hair.

“Thank you,” he finally whispered.

“It’s not a problem, love. Do you have a location?”

He visibly flinched. “No.”

“Do you have a program?”

“No.”

“Do you have a date set?”

“...No.”

_Oh, Benny,_ she thought exasperatedly.

"Really? All that stuff you were doing and you have _nothing?_ "

He almost looked panicked as he stammered out a response. "I didn't- I mean- I was trying to, you know, trying to find something but nothing was- nothing was available-"

"It's alright," she interrupted quickly, wondering vaguely why he was so panicky about the subject. “What DO you have?”

“...I have a _picture_ that can go on the program?”

Nina giggled. “After all this time, that’s ALL you have?”

Benny looked at her apologetically. “Er- well, Abuela Claudia was just so amazing, y'know? I really wanted to get everything exactly right.”

“Yeah, she was amazing. And if you wanted it to be exactly right, we’d be planning this until YOUR funeral. Abuela Claudia was a simple woman. All she wanted from everybody was their best. No matter what this ends up like, she loved you, and she will always love you.”

“I love you, Nina. And here– I can prove it.” He turned and softly planted a kiss on her lips. “Thank you for helping me with this.”

It was clear from the look in Benny’s eyes that Abuela Claudia had touched him in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Maybe that’s why he was so secretive about it– he didn’t want anyone to know how close he was with her. Nina knew the feeling. A pang of longing struck her chest again; the thought that Abuela Claudia would never again greet her with a hug and a smile on the front steps of her apartment was once again overwhelming and she buried her face in Benny’s chest.

“You’re welcome. And I love you, too.”

As Benny stroked her hair, she imagined talking to Abuela again, thanking her for her advice. _Paciencia y fe._ Here she was, hugging Benny once again like how she’d missed doing the past couple of days, because she had listened to Abuela Claudia.

_Just a little bit longer,_ she thought. _Just a little more patience, and when this funeral comes, things will be better again. We’ll hold each other like this as much as we want, all summer._

She had faith that they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D'you think Nina would've realized that Benny pulled that lie out of his ass if she hadn't been missing him so much? Hmm
> 
> Ch. 9 Sneak Peak (which should be revealed in about three to four million years):  
> The floor where Usnavi was pacing already looked worn and shiny, and it had only been six minutes.
> 
> As always, lemme know if you liked it! Thanks for bearing with me here <3


	9. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me so long to post I may as well have actually planned the actual funeral that occurs in it  
> but ANYWAY  
> I think I can get back to once-a-week posts now! My Season Of Everything officially ends Feb 27 and after that it's cruising for the rest of high school (except for AP exams in May lol kms)  
> Thanks so much for continuing reading! Enjoy! :)

The floor where Usnavi was pacing already looked worn and shiny, and it had only been six minutes. A couple of times John had tried to get him to calm down, but he must’ve realized that that was a lost cause because after minute four he sighed, patted his shoulder reassuringly, and went to go have a seat in the main hall. The only ones left in the confession booth were Benny and Usnavi himself. Nina was busy at the door with sign-ins and letters.

Benny had chosen a small catholic church uptown for Abuela Claudia’s formal funeral. Of course, it was more of an “in memory” thing, since she had already been presented and laid to rest, but he had wanted to do it, and Usnavi appreciated that. The setting itself was beautiful: it was quieter than the city there, and there was a beautiful giant stained-glass window that let multicolored light stream onto the pews and plastic chairs set up on either side of the room.

Inside the darker confession booth, though, the light couldn’t quite brighten Usnavi’s spirits.

“What’s bothering you, man?” Benny finally asked him, breaking the silence in the room.

Usnavi knew _exactly_ what was bothering him, but the thought had been shoved so far down to the depths of his mind that thinking about it– much less _telling_ someone about it– seemed preposterous. So he just muttered, “nerves.”

“Dude, this isn’t a show you’re putting on. All these people are here to pay their respects, and no matter what you do, they’ll love you for remembering her.”

A _lot_ of people had shown up, that was for sure. Even with the extra plastic chairs, all the seats had long been filled and people were still piling in, leaning against the wooden walls and filing through the aisles. Usnavi couldn’t care less, though. Benny was right– this was all about her. Abuela Claudia.

And here he was, on her final day of remembrance, wondering if he even really knew her at all.

She had been everyone’s grandmother, the only ever-present thing about the turbulent neighborhood. A place of calm in a raging storm. More importantly, she had been the only parent figure he’d ever had. Or the only parent figure he ever remembered, anyway.

He rubbed his eyebrow again at the dull pain that appeared there and Benny looked at him concernedly.

“Did you take your blue pills this morning?”

“‘Course I did.”

“But you STILL have a headache?”

After basically becoming Usnavi’s medicine dictator, Benny had inexplicably come to know what the blue pills did. Usnavi never remembered telling him that they were for the headaches, but suddenly he knew. He figured he’d just made it obvious.

“It’s just a small one.”

Benny was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

“Are you thinking about her?”

Did Benny know that thinking about what happened before the barrio brought on the headaches? And if so, how could he have possibly figured _that_ one out? Maybe Usnavi was being way more obvious than he’d realized.

“I– sort of. This is gonna sound crazy, but I’m kinda worried I… don’t have anything to say. When I get up there and try to speak, I– I won’t be able to.”

Benny frowned. “Why would that happen?”

“I know she was my Abuela Claudia and all, but when I came into the barrio she’s the one that told me everything about my past. And… and… I don’t know if what she told me was true.”

There it was, out in the open. Usnavi buried his face in his hands at the accusation.

“I mean, it’s not that I don’t trust her, it’s just…” he trailed off, thinking about it. It was just that meeting John and learning about Alexander opened his eyes to a new, and much more explainable, possibility. He had a strong feeling that he could be connected to this man’s life somehow, but Abuela had never even mentioned him.

“Usnavi?”

He looked up at Benny, whose voice had suddenly gone very quiet.

“Abuela Claudia was a good woman. You believe that, right?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“And everything she did, she did to protect you.”

Benny was speaking slowly, as if she was choosing his words carefully.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Usnavi asked him.

He seemed to hesitate for a second before answering. “If this is about your past, then no. All I can tell you is that when you came into the barrio, I barely knew you. I mean, I’ve met you before a couple of times, but I didn’t know about where you came from. Abuela’s the one that told us all. And you could see it in her eyes, and the way she talked about you, that she really, really loved you. But if you don’t think the story she told is true…”

“Look, it’s not that I don’t _believe_ her, it’s just–” Usnavi interrupted, but Benny waved him off.

“If you don’t think it’s true, then you’re probably right.”

That was NOT what Usnavi was expecting to hear.

“...What?”

“You’re the only one who knows what you feel. If you don’t feel like you were who you are now, then maybe there’s a reason for that.” Benny seemed to hesitate a little, then took a step forward and placed a hand on Usnavi’s shoulder. “But whatever you do, and whatever you realize, you have to understand that Abuela Claudia just wanted the best for you.”

So there it was– the possibility that Usnavi de la Vega was not, in fact, Usnavi de la Vega. And whether or not Abuela Claudia knew about it was up for debate, but Benny was right.

“She did, didn’t she?”

“More than anything.”

Abuela Claudia had done _more_ than the best for him. And maybe if she had kept something a secret, it wasn’t for Usnavi to find out, anyway.

“Thanks, Benny. Let’s go see if Nina’s filled up the guest book yet. This booth is starting to creep me out.”

~~~

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Benny spoke into the microphone, and whatever quiet chatter that filled the room fell to a silence.

“We’re gonna go ahead and get started, since so many people are already here. Thank you for joining us today to celebrate the life of Claudia Herreira, our Abuela Claudia. Um– as you can see from the program, we’re gonna start with some opening remarks from Pastor Stevens, so we’ll have him join us now. Pastor Stevens?”

Benny stood off to the side as the pastor came up and shared his wisdom about life and death and the eternal bliss that Abuela Claudia was now experiencing. It was peaceful and mercifully short, and as Usnavi sat in the front row with his friends he shuffled through the little notes he’d made for himself.

“Thank you, sir,” Benny spoke again, taking his position back on the podium once the pastor was done. “Those are certainly words to remember as the rest of us continue on after today. Okay, so next, a few people have prepared some statements to remember her, so we’ll get into that. First up is her semi-adopted grandson, Usnavi.”

Before he stood up to speak, John gave him a reassuring hand squeeze, and despite everything going on he felt his heart leap in his chest. He walked up to the podium and grinned at him gratefully before clearing his throat.

“Hellohellohello, everyone. I’m so glad that this many people decided to come and celebrate the life of my– our abuela. And I think it’s a perfect representation of how much she was loved by everyone in the barrio. Abuela Claudia did a lot for everyone. Besides being the person who managed to bring the largest sum of money to our neighborhood in, like, forty years–”

Everyone had a collective chuckle at that, and he allowed himself a little laugh before continuing.

“She manage to touch just about every heart that she met in different ways. She’s the reason everyone is who they are now. Personally, she was there for me from the moment I stepped foot in this barrio. Immediately, her hug was a safe place, and wherever she led me to was my new home. It didn’t matter where I came from, or how I got there, because I knew that she was gonna take care of me from then on.”

He glanced at Benny before continuing, who gave him a nod and a small smile.

“Abuela Claudia never required much to make her happy. I remember she used to feed those giant city pigeons every afternoon like they were an endangered species or something–” that earned another chuckle from the audience– “and she loved looking at pictures of everybody. Seriously, if you’ve ever been to her apartment, you’ll know how many pictures she has with everyone in them. And I remember, she loved looking at the stars. Every time there was a blackout and she’d have to come to my apartment because the storm made me almost piss myself–” he glanced at John, who smiled along with the rest of the crowd– “she was constantly glancing out the window. I always wanted to know what exactly she was looking for, and it took me a solid couple of years to realize that she was just trying to enjoy the view. There, that was Abuela for you–” He’d managed to keep the ache in his chest at bay until that point– “She always saw the good in everything and everyone, and if she waited and kept faith, that good would show itself. ‘Paciencia y fe,’ she would always say. And– and in case you were wondering, the night before– before she passed, she was outside and she finally got to see them. The stars. And the fireworks, too. They put on a show for her.” Usnavi sniffed and wiped at his eyes again. “See, Benny promised he wouldn’t cry today, but I made no such promise.” The sniffles from the audience indicated that they hadn’t made that promise, either. Usnavi took a deep breath and continued, staring up at the giant crystal chandelier.

“That’s what she’ll always mean to me. Abuela, I love you, and I miss you, but I know you’re happy now because you get to be among your stars. Thank you.”

There was a sniffly yet polite round of applause as Usnavi made his way back to his seat, letting the tears fall more freely now. Even John, who hadn’t even known her, was a little teary-eyed as he smiled at Usnavi and pulled him under his arm when he sat down.

“That was beautiful. I’m sure she loved it,” John whispered, and Unavi felt a warm feeling settle in his chest at the peace he’d attained in getting to say what he wanted to about his Abuela.

He wondered if she would’ve liked John for a second before he decided, yes, she would’ve loved him. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind.

“Thanks, Usnavi, for your wonderful words, and for almost making me break my promise.”

Benny gave him a small grin as the audience chuckled. “ _Almost._ Anyway, next speaking is Abuela’s other adopted child, Sonny de la Vega.”

Sonny got up from his spot next to Nina and cleared his throat as he reached the podium. He turned and looked at Usnavi before starting, and he realized his little cousin was crying, too.

“Okay, I'm gonna keep this short. Abuela Claudia was my abuela, too,” He started, pausing to clear his throat again and wipe at his eyes. “When my mom died, I thought I would have to go into a foster home or an orphanage or somethin’. But Abuela Claudia took me in. She was there for me when I was at my worst and she was there for me at my best and she’s been there for everything in between. If there’s one thing I’ll remember about her, it’s the way that her eyes crinkled when she smiled. And she smiled a lot. I hope she’s still smiling now, wherever she is. And–” Sonny was stopped by a small gasp that had involuntarily escaped his mouth. “–And _que descanse en paz, Abuela. Te amo._ ”

He was met with another small round of applause as he made his way back into his seat. John scooted over enough for Sonny to sit next to him. Usnavi hugged him tight and stroked his hair gently as Sonny leaned his head on Usnavi’s shoulder.

“And finally, we have Abuela’s other OTHER adopted child, Nina Rosario.”

Usnavi drew his eyes away from his cousin to offer Nina a smile as she went up.

She drew a very unsteady breath before speaking, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.

“So I’ve prepared some things to say, but I also made a plan B in case I was a mess before I hit the podium and–” she sniffled and gave a watery smile to the church– “I guess we’re going with plan B.” The audience chuckled a bit before she continued. “So, as we all know, Abuela Claudia touched every heart she met in her many, many years here. I know she touched mine. She saw the potential in me, and she’s one of the main reasons that I was able to succeed in school like I have. But that’s because she was always there for me. What’s _more_ impressive are the times she’d meet people for only a moment and still manage to change their lives. So now, before I lose the ability to speak completely, I want to open the stand up to anyone whose heart has been touched by this woman. Please, come up and share your stories, or what you liked best about her, or anything.” With that, she walked over to stand with Benny as a shuffling in the crowd brought up a few people to speak.

Vanessa went first, and she shared a pretty funny story about Abuela Claudia giving her The Talk when she was a teenager. Next was Camila, and Kevin, and then Carla, and soon there was an endless stream of stories and little things shared and Usnavi had gone from laughter to almost-ugly-tears and back, and was pretty exhausted by the emotional roller coaster. He kept listening, though, to the things he never knew, but somehow always knew about her. Like how children would bring her injured pigeons to nurse back to health or the fact that one time she had found someone trying to break into her apartment and invited him in for coffee.

After the stream had died down, Benny shared some of his own stories, and Nina took the podium one last time to give her words of love to Abuela.

After the speakers, Benny shared a short biography of her life, the pianist led them in song, and the pastor went back up to say his closing remarks and lead them all in a prayer.

“...Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Alabanza,” Nina whispered, squeezing Usnavi’s hand as the rustle of people standing up started around them.

The accumulated crowd had thinned noticeably; having a service at noon on a weekday meant a majority of the people still had business to attend to. Still, a great number of them– barrio residents, mostly– headed out of the church to eat in the small garden out back. It was a pretty happy meal, except for the fact that Benny had to step away about four times to take phone calls and Nina tried not to look too irritated about it. Oh, and the fact that Sonny and Pete had mysteriously disappeared.

For the most part, though, Usnavi paid it no mind, because he had made his peace with himself and with Abuela Claudia. And also, John stayed at his side for the better part of the afternoon. Vanessa walked past him a couple of times and winked, and Usnavi would have to try and hide his blush from John, who thankfully didn’t notice the exchange.

Finally, though, he did.

“Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry,” he stammered, watching Vanessa sashay away victoriously. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he was expecting from John, but Usnavi was mortified all the same.

“Am I keeping you away from her? You could’ve told me something and I would’ve given you guys some time. I’m sorry, you can call her back and I’ll leave now.”

“No, no,” Usnavi managed to say through his shock, grabbing John’s arm to stop him from leaving. “You don’t have to go. I’m hanging out with you here.”

“Wouldn’t you rather spend time with your girlfriend, though? I mean, you see me all the time.”

 _Ooooh. Right._

“She’s… actually not my girlfriend,” Usnavi mumbled.

John stared at him dumbly.

“What?”

He laughed nervously and pulled him to the side, sitting down on the rock wall surrounding the garden.

“Don’t tell anybody this, I don’t want my ego shattered. But on that second date, she... how do I put this? She friendzoned me. I mean, she did it nicely, and obviously we’re still friends and all, but she said we didn’t exactly match together. And I agreed.”

John kept staring, and Usnavi’s cheeks were getting too hot. He had to look away.

“So… that morning when you walked in with her…”

“We had pizza. I slept on her couch. And… that’s about it.”

There was another five seconds of solid staring before John burst into laughter.

“Dude, you had us all convinced, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Pretty good, huh?”

“ _Really_ good. If you hadn’t said anythin’ I would’ve thought you were really... hookin’ up with her and stuff.”

Hearing John say that did NOT help with his already-burning cheeks. “Um, thanks. I guess.”

“Wait, then, so why did she just wink at you?”

“She just does that. It’s our thing,” he lied quickly.

John didn’t reply. He was looking at Usnavi with an odd little crooked grin, and he could feel himself combusting violently under the gaze.

 _Change the subject,_ he thought hastily. _Right now. To something. ANYTHING. Go._

“Hey, you wanna learn something about consumerism?”

_What the FUCK, Usnavi?_

John was apparently going through a similar thought process, because he gave a short laugh and made a face.

“Consumerism?” he repeated incredulously.

 _Just go with it. You can’t back out now,_ he thought miserably, lamenting for the hundredth time at how his social skills all but vanished when John was staring at him.

“Yeah. Like, customers and shit. Look, watch the buffet line. See how they all skip over the same stuff?”

“Uh… sure?”

“It’s the same reason certain aisles at the bodega are always empty. They trust that the ones before them have good judgement and follow what they’re doing.”

Usnavi had to admit that he was rather proud for pulling that one out of his ass.

“Um… do you _study_ the customers in the bodega?”

“Well, no, not really. I think I just read it in a book once, and then just started noticing it, y’know?”

“You’re a strange fellow, Usnavi.”

“Likewise, John.”

“What? Why am I strange? I don’t talk about consumerism at a funeral.”

“You want to be friends with people who do,” Usnavi responded, grinning.

John smiled back and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you got me.”

They fell into silence after that, watching the crowd. Usnavi wondered if John was looking for signs of consumerism at the buffet. He smiled to himself; that seemed like something John would definitely do. He had an adorable habit of taking everything seriously, especially when it came to the bodega. Sonny had once sarcastically informed him that the floors could only be mopped from left to right and to this day, that was the only way John cleaned the place.

“What? Why’re you smiling?” He asked suspiciously. Usnavi must’ve been grinning a bit wider than he’d thought.

“No reason.”

John frowned, but went back to watching the crowd. Usnavi’s smile grew.

After a couple of minutes, Nina, Benny and Vanessa walked up to them and invited them on a walk to visit Abuela Claudia’s resting place, and they agreed. They had a nice talk on the way up, although Usnavi had to endure two more winks and one excessively hard kick in the shin from Vanessa.

Abuela was buried on the top of a hill that offered a stunning view of the surrounding fields. The Hudson River sparkled in the distance. They all stood there for a while, talking amongst themselves and to her. She and John were formally introduced, albeit a little awkwardly, and they all gave their final wishes to her in silence, the ones that were too personal to say out loud. Usnavi looked up at the tree standing nearby.

_Abuela, please don’t get mad at me if I want to find out more about my past. No matter who I am, I’m going to love you always._

Finally, the silence was broken by Benny. “I gotta go. I’ll help clean up, but then I gotta… meet with the caterer to make sure all the money’s accounted for.”

“We’ll head down then,” Nina replied, and Vanessa nodded.

“You guys coming?”

Usnavi looked at John who shrugged as if to say, ‘it’s up to you.’

“Nah, I think we’ll hang back for a while. Enjoy the view a bit more.”

“Alright. See you later.”

They left, Benny patting him on the shoulder, Nina giving him one more smile, and Vanessa waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Usnavi rolled his eyes and tried not to smile as they walked down the hill.

A hush fell over them both as they watched the horizon. John shut his eyes, feeling a faint breeze pass over them. Usnavi couldn’t help but watch the way the curls that had escaped from his ponytail blew, dragging across his cheeks and his ten million perfect freckles.

“It’s quiet uptown, isn’t it?” John finally said, his eyes still closed. “I bet it’s so much darker than the city, too, without all the lights. You picked the perfect spot for her. This hill must be an amazing place to look at the stars.”

Usnavi watched John silently for another few seconds, taking in his words and his face and his faint little smile, and fought the overwhelming urge to grab his hand.

“I wish you could’ve gotten to meet her. Like, when she was alive,” he finally said, and John turned to look at him. _God,_ those eyes never failed to stop him cold. Usnavi forgot what he was going to say next, he got so lost in them.

“Why’s that?”

 _Breathe, dude,_ he thought.

“She would’ve liked you.”

“How d’you know?”

“Because _I_ like you.”

The words had slipped out before Usnavi had a chance to think about them and he felt terror rising in his chest and he prayed to all the gods in the sky that John could take it as something totally platonic and not an actual confession of his feelings at his Abuela’s freaking FUNERAL, like seriously, what an idiot thing to do, he wouldn’t be surprised if John just slapped him in the face and walked away–

“Thanks, Usnavi. And for what it’s worth, I like you too.”

John grinned at him before turning back to watch the sun reflect off the river.

_Oh, _Usnavi thought, deflating all at once. John didn’t seem to notice any strange implications of his sentence. He finally looked away from the man, blinking at the sky.__

__They were overcome by silence again until John broke it._ _

__“Reckon there’re turtles that live in that river?”_ _

__Usnavi laughed. “You and your turtles, man, I don’t get it.”_ _

__“Hey, don’t hate ‘em. Like, seriously, you can’t. It’s impossible.”_ _

__“Whatever you say, turtle boy.”_ _

__“You shut up now. I bet Abuela would’ve agreed with me, too. Whaddaya say, Abuela?”_ _

__They both looked down at her stone in the grass, which, naturally, remained silent. The only sign that Abuela might’ve heard them was another faint breeze that picked up and blew past them._ _

__“That was a yes,” whispered John in awe, and Usnavi rolled his eyes._ _

__“You’re ridiculous, John.”_ _

__“I know. I got your own Abuela to side with me in an argument. I’m ridiculously charming, is what I am."_ _

__Usnavi laughed again. He couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with that, after all._ _

__“Whatever. Let’s just go back, they’re probably cleaning up by now. Goodbye, Abuela. I’ll be back to visit you soon.”_ _

__“Bye, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you. And thanks for takin’ my side.”_ _

__With one last glance at her name carved in rock, he turned and they started back down the hill._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 Sneak Peek:  
> Sonny hated Pete.
> 
> >:)


	10. Sonny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the last time I said I had a Sonny and Pete fluff chapter I totally lied but I promise I'm not lying this time
> 
> This is pure, uncomplicated Sonny and Pete self-indulgence. I hope you enjoy it! If nothing else, I hope it takes your mind off of current events for just a little bit.

Sonny hated Pete.

Okay, no, so clearly that wasn’t true. Sonny just hated the way Pete made him _feel._

Well, no, that wasn’t true, either. Sonny loved the way Pete made him feel. And hated it at the same time.

It was complicated.

Pete made him feel like he was soaring and free-falling at the same time. He made him smile so much it hurt his cheeks and laugh until he felt sick to his stomach. He was invincible, powerful and helpless all at the same time, like he could punch through a steel wall and then collapse at his knees when Pete grinned at him.

The worst (best?) part was that the feeling came when he was least expecting it. Like, they would just be joking and talking about nothing and suddenly Pete would say something and Sonny would have to physically step back and clutch his chest because it hit him _right in the feels._

It happened a couple of times in the weeks following Abuela Claudia’s funeral; at least, whenever Usnavi would let him out of the bodega (they’d gotten into a bit of trouble for sneaking back to Pete’s apartment after the ceremony, even though Sonny had only done it so he could have some time to himself).

Once, it happened when Pete was tagging a wall and Sonny kept sneaking behind him and switching up his colors by putting the caps on different cans.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Pete said, shaking his head as a neon pink stream of paint hit the wall. He threw the blue cap at Sonny, who caught it and grinned.

“You know exactly why you put up with me.”

Pete just rolled his eyes and picked up another can, reading the label carefully before turning around. “Because you always ruin my day?”

“Yes. Because I ruin your days, but I give you the _best nights of your life._ ”

Pete snorted before he could catch himself, and shook his head, still shaking in silent chuckles as he sprayed blue strokes over the wall.

“Don’t deny it,” Sonny teased. “You know it’s true.”

“Okay, sure.”

“C’mon,” Sonny pressed, still giggling. “Admit it.”

“I _did._ ”

“Then elaborate. Which one is the best night I gave you?”

Pete paused mid-spray and banged his head against the wall. Sonny snickered, but before he could tease him more, Pete continued almost immediately.

“The night my dad kicked me out and I had to crash at your place. Hands-down, best night of my life.”

Sonny smirked. “What was the kicker, Usnavi slamming the door in your face or having to sneak in through the fire escape?”

Pete didn’t even turn around, and kept right on spraying.

“Actually, it was when I had to sleep in your bed, because I remember thinking, ‘if I had to get kicked out by my dad every single night, I would. If it meant I got to fall asleep next to you.’”

That was the first time the feeling hit him in _waves_ , and stupid Pete and his stupid story was the only thing he could think about for the rest of the day. What pissed him off even more was that Pete knew _exactly_ what he was doing. Whenever he caught him off-guard, he gave him a smug little smile that grabbed Sonny’s insides and twisted them around even more.

A week later Sonny decided to go on the offensive, because if he had to feel like that, then goddammit, so should Pete. Opportunity struck one late afternoon when they were walking down the street and a white BMW whizzed by.

Pete whistled. “Don’t see a lotta those around here.”

“You like it?”

“It’s a nice car.”

Sonny poked his arm, going in for the kill. “Well, if I had a dollar for every time I thought about you, I’d be able to buy it for you.”

Pete grinned at him, and Sonny thought that he had achieved victory for a moment until Pete responded.

“Thanks, Sonshine. And if _I_ had a dollar for every time I thought about you, I’d have, like, three dollars.”

“You fucking asshole.” Sonny shoved him good-naturedly and he took two steps to the side before swaying back.

“Because it’s really hard to get you out of my head.”

And the feeling hit him hard again.

“You fucking _asshole_.”

Pete just grinned and took his hand in response, and they kept on walking down the street.

As the days passed into weeks and the looming threat of school drew ever closer, Sonny found himself having to work more and more at the bodega as Usnavi mostly took over the duties of training John. It meant there were fewer chances for he and Pete to hang out, but also fewer chances for Pete to assault him with a well-placed sentence.

Still, there were some.

One night, Sonny closed up shop alone (Usnavi had gone with John somewhere, he hadn’t been paying much attention) and after he locked the bodega grate and turned around, he yelped.

“Ha-ha!” Pete laughed, punching him in the arm. “Remind me not to get stuck in the wild with you. We’d be dead in an hour.”

“Jesus, Pete, you scared me.”

“I know. Got the night off? I heard Usnavi’s back on the town.”

“You heard right. I think. I dunno, I wasn’t really paying much attention.”

Pete smiled and grabbed his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I dunno. Go walking.”

“You tryna kidnap me, Pete?”

“Based on how observant you are, I think I could actually pull that off.”

“Shut up.”

They ended up strolling through Bennett Park, stopping to sit on a bench and enjoy the chilly night air. It was about that time when the stuffy summer nights started to cool down, forewarning the onset of autumn (and school season). Sonny shivered and scooted closer to Pete, who wrapped an arm around him and pulled him to his chest.

“I don’t want this summer to end,” Sonny murmured.

“Me either.”

“You’re lucky you dropped out before this whole testing and scholarships and colleges crap started, you know that?”

Pete gave him a look. “I dunno about lucky.”

“Yeah, I know. I have to do it if I wanna make anything of myself and get something meaningful done here. But I don’t wanna go through all the stuff it takes to get there.”

Pete just sighed in response.

“I just… I just wanna stop existing for a while, y’know? I mean, I don’t wanna die,” he added quickly in response to Pete’s startled look, “but I don’t wanna… live. Like, I’ll just be suspended in motion for a couple years, and there’ll be no hunger, no stress, no work, no tiredness, just… nothing.”

“Can I come with you?” Pete asked mildly. Sonny sat up to look him straight-on, raising an eyebrow.

“Why would you want to come with me into my pit of boring nothingness, dude? Don’t you have a life?”

Pete just shrugged. “Wouldn’t want one without you in it.”

There, BAM, that feeling hit him again like a full-force tidal wave. Sonny had to remind himself to breathe.

“Jesus, Pete, Can you give me a _warning_ before you just rip my heart out like that?”

In response, Pete laughed, bringing his hands up to cup Sonny’s face. He brought them together slowly, sweetly, kissed him, and then that feeling was washing over him over and over again, and it was so much better and so, so much worse. Finally, they broke apart and Sonny pressed his forehead against Pete’s, basking in the warm feeling of his hands on his cheeks and his eyelashes fluttering against Sonny’s. He wanted to stay right there and run as fast as he could and get even closer to him, all at the same time.

“Pete?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously. A warning next time. Please.”

When Pete laughed he felt the warm breath on his lips and he felt like he was gonna drop dead right there.

“Okay, warning: I wanna kiss you again.”

Sonny returned to their apartment grinning like a madman, and not even Usnavi giving him the evil eye for the rest of the night could wipe the smile off his face.

He even wondered, a couple of times, if he had a serious heart condition causing his symptoms. That’s what the internet was able to tell him, anyway, and it made at least a little sense. He decided to consult Nina at her apartment, who immediately told him that he was being ridiculous.

“You’re way too young to have a heart condition that’s not congenital. And if it were, you would’ve known about it by now.”

“Then what am I feeling?”

Nina sighed. She’d been sighing pretty often lately.

“You’ve got to figure that one out for yourself, Sonny.”

“Back to WebMD it is, then.”

Nina just gave him a small smile, sighed again, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

WebMD told him he had cardiomyopathy.

~~~

That night, Pete climbed up to his fire escape and they sat outside, letting their legs dangle under the railing and staring out at the city.

“Look at all the streetlights. I wonder what that must look like from space,” Pete commented.

“I’m sure it looks pretty… small. Because, y’know, space.”

Pete shoved him and Sonny laughed.

“Okay, okay, I’m sure it’s beautiful. You gonna try and paint it sometime?”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I want to paint you first, though.”

“Why?”

“You’re better.”

Sonny, to his credit, had been expecting that and was able to successfully fend off the warm feeling growing in his chest.

“Quite the smooth talker, Pete.”

“Why, thanks.”

“It beats me why you never had a girlfriend before me. If you would’ve said one thing like that they’d’ve been all over you.”

Pete shrugged. “I guess I was afraid to, back then.”

“Afraid of what? Girls? That’s why you ended up with me?” Sonny teased.

“Nah, just… a relationship, I guess. I was afraid to get attached to somebody. All I ever knew about relationships was that they're weak and fragile and it hurts when it ends. At least, that’s all I knew from what my dad told me and how he fought with mama all the time. I dunno. It seemed like a lot of work for something so awful, and I didn’t want that, y’know?”

Pete had talked about his parents before, sure, but this was something new. It hurt like hell whenever Pete revealed a new scar that his dad had given him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning up against him and taking his hand. “Nobody should have to be afraid like that.”

“S’okay,” Pete murmured back, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m not afraid of it anymore.”

“Why? What changed?”

Pete shrugged, looking back at the city skyline.

“I met you.”

He might as well have set off a firework in Sonny’s heart for all the damage he’d caused. Sonny felt like he was going to explode, and he had to physically lean back because waves of warmth were pounding over him so hard that they were taking his breath away. Suddenly, the rest of the world seemed a million miles away, and it was just Pete and him in the vast, empty sky.

And Sonny realized there _was_ a name for the feeling.

And it wasn’t cardiomyopathy.

“I love you,” he breathed, and the instant he said it he knew it was right. He felt it rush through him like blood through his veins, and wondered how he’d never noticed it before. It was warmth, it was light, it was bliss. “I love you, Pete.”

Pete turned to him slowly, and Sonny could see the city lights reflected in his eyes.

“I love you too, Sonny.”

And then Pete’s lips were warm against his own, and his hands were running through his hair and Sony’s hands were tight around Pete’s waist as he pulled him closer to try and share with him the waves of heat radiating from his chest.

“I love you so much,” Pete mumbled against his lips as he untangled their legs from the fire escape, moving so that Sonny’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“I love you.” Sonny dragged his hands under Pete’s sweatshirt and up his chest.

“I love you.” Pete bit down on Sonny’s lip, making him groan and kiss him harder.

Sonny may not have had cardiomyopathy, but he _may_ have had slight hypothermia from waking up the next morning with so much bare skin against the cold metal fire escape.

It was fine, though.

Pete’s arms around him warmed him up pretty quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two, if you couldn't tell, are my absolute favorites. Lmk if you liked it :)
> 
> Chapter 11 Sneak Peek:  
> All was not well in Bennyland.


	11. Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for this chapter. Shit goes down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Advancing the plot? Never heard of her
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a little late. After an impressive bit of procrastination I ended up having to do 6 essays in the span of 13 hours. Plus homework.
> 
> And that, kids, is why you should drop out of school.

All was not well in Bennyland.

That was a saying his stepmom always said to him. It was at the point in his life where school actually got difficult and the homework seemed to multiply overnight. Benny was constantly worried about tests and schoolwork, and on top of that, he was on the varsity basketball team and dating the most popular (and most high-maintenance) cheerleader in school. He’d walk around with his brow furrowed all the time, and his stepmom would walk right up to him, poke a finger right at the crease of his eyebrows, and say in a sing-song voice, “Looks like all is not well in Bennyland.”

His dad’s third wife was a strange woman. But that was besides the point.

Looking down at his phone, Benny realized that she was right.

There were four missed calls from George and one from Nina. Sighing, he pressed redial and put the phone to his ear.

“Benjamin.” The phone didn’t even ring once.

“George.”

“Where are you? What happened?”

“I– sorry, I’m at home. I was walking and I didn’t hear my phone go off in my pocket.”

George sighed in exasperation at the other end of the line. “What’s gonna happen when there’s an actual emergency and you just ‘don’t hear’ your phone go off?”

Benny rolled his eyes. “Then I’m sure you’ll just call me another three times.”

“Whatever.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Benny spoke up.

“Did you need something?”

“Oh! Yes, I did, actually.”

“Well, I’m alone now.”

“You seem to be alone a lot lately,” George teased.

“Shut up. That’s your fault,” Benny snapped back.

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Whatever. Benjamin, I need you to go to the corner of 187th and Broadway and pick up something for me.”

“Right now?”

“No, at eight o’clock tonight. It’s very important that you’re there on the dot.”

Benny smacked his forehead. Of course it was at the exact same time he’d scheduled reservations for a dinner with Nina.

“How long is it gonna take?”

“Pickup should be done in, like, five minutes.”

Benny sighed. “That’s still all the way across town, though.”

“From what?”

“From dinner. I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

“Ooooh, who with?”

“Nina.”

George laughed incredulously. “You’re still going out with her? How’d you manage to keep her?”

“I still don’t know. And with all your _interruptions,_ I don’t know for how much longer, either.”

“Well, I apologize, but my interruptions happen to be rather important.”

“I know, I know. Just– how long are they supposed to last?”

“Well, we’ve got to keep Usnavi safe until the enemy agent is found and captured. So either until then or until we can put a new agent in the barrio.”

“Well, get crackin’, because my love life is suffering.”

“Have you tried sending her flowers?”

“Flowers, and chocolate, and notes. Which, by way, you’re paying for.”

“Benny!”

“G-Wash!” He imitated George’s whiny voice.

“Fine. But I’m gonna buy stuff for Martha, then, and you’re paying for it.”

“Just take it out of my paycheck. Oh– wait, that’s right. You don’t pay me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Benny rolled his eyes. “How’s she doing, anyway?”

“Martha? She’s doing well. We’re fine. I think she’s looking to buy a house in– where we are, so when I get too old for this job we can settle down, maybe adopt a couple of dogs or somethin’.”

“You’re not gonna come back and live with your brother again?” Benny whined, sticking his lower lip out.

George managed to see it via his phone-tuition and clicked his tongue. “Don’t pout at me, Benny. We’re working on it. We’ll see how close we can get to you. In the meantime, though, the package. Don’t forget it. 8 PM, sharp.”

“What am I doing with it, again?”

“Just leave it in your closet. I dunno, it’s just for our signal purposes.”

“Right-o. Wish me luck with Nina.”

“Good luck with Nina. Bye, B-Wash.”

“Bye, G-Wash.”

The line clicked dead and he sighed with trepidation. Benny had just talked to the head of some top-secret spy organization, and his next call was going to be far more stressful.

He took a moment to fully appreciate (read: curse the Gods that put him in) his situation before finding Nina’s contact and pressing call. Unlike George, it took a few rings for her to answer.

“Hello,” she sighed resignedly. Nina had been sighing a lot lately. It was a pleasant reminder of the thin ice Benny constantly found himself treading on.

“Hey, Nina. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was walking home and I must’ve not heard the phone go off in my pocket.”

“It’s alright. Just checking in to see what time you made the reservations for?”

Benny cringed at the subject being brought up so soon. “Uh– well, I made it at eight.”

“Eight sounds good.”

“But…”

Nina sighed.

“But?”

“I’m gonna be a couple minutes late.”

“It’s fine, Benny. How late is a couple minutes?”

With eight o’clock traffic? On a Tuesday night? Half an hour at best, depending on how long it took for him to actually pick up the package.

“...Twenty minutes?”

Nina sighed again.

“Benny.”

Look, something just came up literally a couple of minutes ago and I had to take it.”

“Do you happen to know how much longer I’m in the barrio? I leave in–”

“Six days, I know. And I promised I would make this week all about you. I just– this is the last thing on my schedule for this week.” He made a mental note to tell George not to make him do any other jobs until Labor day.

“That you know of,” Nina pointed out.

“That– that I know of, yeah. But I don’t expect any other emergency situations for the rest of this week.”

“EMERGENCIES?” Suddenly the monotone in her voice was gone.

“Erm, no, I mean– just unexpected. I don’t expect anything unexpected to happen.”

“You don’t expect anything unexpected,” Nina repeated dully. It sounded like such a dumb promise when she said it. But then again, it _was_ a dumb promise.

“I… well, yeah.”

Nina sighed. “I’ll see you at 8:20, then.”

“You got it. I love you, Nina.”

“Te quiero, Benny.” She seemed tired, like there was no point of really saying the words. Benny cringed again and decided he was going to bring a giant bouquet of flowers to dinner.

After the line clicked dead, he put his phone down and buried his face in his hands. It had all gone downhill from the moment Usnavi’s plane left New York two months ago, because all of a sudden George needed him for anything and everything. He found himself picking up packages and delivering them all over the city. Then Usnavi’s pills needed to be refilled, for which he had to drive to the other side of the state, drive all the way back, prepare his own prescription (was he even QUALIFIED to do that?), and send it to Usnavi’s pharmacy for him to pick up. Occasionally, George called him and urged him to go stand in some random-ass place in the barrio– once he’d had to climb to the roof of the old salon– so they could “triangulate possible locations with his cell signals,” whatever the hell that meant. Benny really didn’t mind doing any of it, partly because he was glad to be doing something important and keeping Usnavi safe, but partly also because it meant he got to talk to his brother more often.

At least, he _wouldn’t_ mind if his missions didn’t impede on his time with Nina. He desperately wished that he could tell her why he had to run off so often or why he couldn’t make anything she tried to plan. It killed him to see her so disappointed all the time, knowing that _he_ was the cause of it. Earlier in the summer, it was marginally easier because he’d made up that lie about planning Abuela Claudia’s funeral. After the funeral actually happened though, he couldn’t find anything to blame the distractions on, and the distractions kept coming.

_A week,_ he reminded himself. _You have a week until she leaves, and you have to make it the best week of her life._

He picked up his phone and found his brother’s contact.

**G-Wash**  
_Sent:_ give me six free days  
_Received:_ For what?  
_Sent:_ without having to pick up anything or do anything for you  
_Received:_ You’ve HAD 6 free dayd  
_Received:_ days*  
_Sent:_ no, consecutively  
_Received:_ Oh yeah sure ok let me just cancel all emergencies from now till Monday  
_Sent:_ please. For nina  
_Received:_ I’ll see what I can di  
_Sent:_ u da best, g-wash  
_Received:_ No promises made yet  
_Sent:_ u almost da best, g-wash  
_Received:_ Thanks, B-Wash 

Benny sighed and left the conversation, opting instead to look up flower shops near the corner of 187th and Broadway. 

~~~ 

What George forgot to mention was that the package Benny was picking up weighed ten million pounds. When he finally entered the restaurant after lugging it all the way back home on the subway and dumping it just inside his apartment, it was nearly 8:45 and Nina was nowhere to be seen. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach as he brought out his phone again. 

**Mi Amor**  
_Sent:_ where r u? Im at the restaurant  
_Received:_ I’m at home  
_Sent:_ what?  
_Received:_ It’s 8:43 I already finished and went home  
_Sent:_ nina im so sorry  
_Sent:_ my thing ran a little late and then there was a traffic going over 

Nina didn’t answer. 

_Sent:_ hold on im coming 

~~~ 

When the door opened and Kevin Rosario glared at him, Benny knew he was toast. 

“She doesn’t want to see you,” he grunted before moving to close the door. Benny stopped it with one hand, the other still holding Nina’s flowers. 

“No, wait, just– please, can I talk to her?” 

“No. I’m not letting you hurt my daughter again. Goodnight.” He started to close the door further, and in desperation Benny stuck the flowers through the quickly closing crack. 

“Okay, if I can’t talk to her, can you at least give her this? Please?” 

Kevin glared at the flowers, and back up at Benny. Slowly, though, the door opened again. 

“Come in. I want you to see something.” 

_Well, that was a good sign, right?_

As the door opened, the first thing Benny noticed was red. And then pink. And then green. And then purple. There were flowers on almost every flat surface: sitting in glass jars on the coffee table, vases in the dining room, bottles of them on the kitchen counters, and even two pots above the bookshelf. The second thing he noticed was the smell, which (if it couldn’t already be assumed) was distinctly flowery. 

“These are all the flowers you’ve given Nina this summer. She kept every single one. Even if they all meant a broken promise that you made to her, she kept. Every. Single. One.” Kevin growled and poked Benny’s chest with each word. 

“Now, I’ll take these 16 more broken promises–” he snatched the flowers from Benny’s hand– “and kindly ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Dad? Who’re you talking to–” 

Benny turned around and his heart sank. There was Nina right outside of her bedroom. Her eyes were red and rimmed with tears and she sniffled once before gasping and retreating back into the room, slamming the door behind her. 

“She’s been like that ever since we got home,” Camila commented from the kitchen, walking out grimly with a mug of some hot beverage. 

Kevin snarled and turned to Benny, sticking another finger into his chest. 

_“Pagarás por lo que hiciste,”_ he snarled. _“Tienes mi palabra.”_

He didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t take a spanish speaker to know that it wasn’t something he’d like to hear. He looked at Camila, who was still holding her mug with her arms crossed in front of her. 

“It would be wise of you to get out of here, Benny.” 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered before turning and fleeing out the door. 

~~~ 

True to George’s word, he didn’t have anything to do the next day, or the day after. Unfortunately, it just so happened that Benny couldn’t find Nina anywhere. She wasn’t responding to his texts, or showing up at the bodega, and there was no way in hell Benny was going back to her house. 

“Have you seen Nina lately?” he asked Sonny when he stepped in on his way home from an aimless walk around the barrio. Sonny just glared in response. 

“Why should I tell you if I have?” 

“Because this was supposed to be the day I was spending with her–” 

“This was supposed to be the SUMMER you were spending with her, but look how that turned out.” Sonny interrupted. 

He silently prayed that John and Usnavi would come back from wherever they were, and fast, because he could feel himself shriveling up under Sonny’s cold glare. 

“I _said_ I’m sorry, and I just had things to do, but now–” 

“She TOLD me you were sorry. Like, seven million times.” 

“She did? You talked to her? Where is she?” 

Sonny just huffed and crossed his arms, reminding him for a second of a tiny, curly-haired Daniela. 

“She loved you, you know. She really did. And you had her love and you just threw it away.” 

Benny didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just kept silent and let the word ‘loved’ play on an endless track in his head. 

“Thank you for shopping here,” Sonny said coldly, and Benny took his cue to leave. 

He wandered for another hour or so, half-hoping he’d run into Nina and half-thinking about how Sony was right. Nina had been the best thing he ever had, and all he could do was go off on his brother’s fancy missions and leave her behind. How could he have been so _stupid?_ How could he have ever imagined that she would’ve let him do that? 

He pulled out his phone and looked at their conversation again. The entire screen was his messages; in the two entire days he searched for her, she hadn’t replied once. He took a deep breath and sent yet another one. 

**Mi Amor**  
_Sent:_ nina, i shouldnt have left you like that this entire summer and i know you have every right to be mad at me  
_Sent:_ but i still love you and i miss you  
_Sent:_ so if youre getting these messages, meet me tomorrow at 9am in the park 

There. An ultimatum. If Nina showed up, he would apologize and have three more days to spend with her and do whatever she wanted. If she didn’t show up, Benny would go home knowing he’d deserved it and he would have to pray that in the months she was away, she would forgive him enough so they could at least be friends again. 

Nodding to himself, he turned and made the long walk back to his apartment.

~~~ 

He had settled into a Big Bang Theory marathon and the clock read 8:00 when there was a soft knock at the door. It took him a moment to unstick himself from the couch and dust all the chip crumbs onto the floor before he could make his way over to the door and peer out the peephole. After he did, though, he gasped and nearly tore the door of its hinges as he opened it. 

“Nina!” he cried, relief flooding his chest. There she was, in flesh-and-blood, standing outside. She was dressed in a long-sleeved coat and jeans and looked as if she were planning to go out in the cold, meaning she’d probably walked from her house. 

“Please, come in.” He gestured to his apartment. Chip-crumb-floor be damned, if Nina was here, she was coming in. To his surprise, though, she shook her head and looked at her feet. 

“Benny…” she started, and the first thing he noticed was that there was a strange tone to her voice, and uncertainty that was never there before. “I just came to tell you that– that I can’t meet you tomorrow. At the park.” 

“Well, that’s okay, because you’re here right now. C’mon in, and I know I–” 

“No, I can’t make it tomorrow and I can’t go in because I’m leaving now.” 

It took a few seconds for her words to sink in – and a few more for Benny to understand what they meant. 

“...What?” 

Nina looked up at the ceiling, then down the hall, then back down at her feet. In other words, she looked anywhere but Benny’s eyes. Suddenly, his relief was gone, and it was slowly being replaced by dread. 

“I’m leaving… I’m leaving for California. Right now. I just stopped by to say that.” 

“But I thought your flight was on Monday?” He would never have forgiven himself if he’d managed to get that one date wrong. 

“It… it was. But my mom found a cheaper flight for Thursday night and we need all the money we can get so– so it’s Thursday night and I’m leaving in–” she rolled up her sleeve and looked at a watch on her wrist– “two hours.” 

No. She couldn’t be leaving so soon. Not before Benny had a chance to apologize. “Just like that? No going-away party?” 

“We had a little– a little get-together.” She swallowed hard and examined her nail. “Last night. At our house.” She stopped there, but the indication was clear. 

_Without you._

“Nina, I’m sorry,” he said for the millionth time in those two days alone. “Please, believe me, I wouldn’t’ve left you if I’d known–” 

“Known what? That my feelings would get hurt?” She said it quietly, but it was still enough to shut Benny up. “That I actually cared about you? Because I did, Benny, and I thought– I thought you cared about me too.” 

This use of past-tense was making him extremely nervous. “I do–” 

“And maybe you did. I don’t know. What I do know, though, is that you cared about other stuff more. So I decided that if you were going to put stuff before me, then I could put my stuff– and my family– before you. So here’s me doing that. Goodbye, Benny.” She turned down the hall to leave, but Benny wouldn’t let that happen if he could help it. He _didn’t_ put things before she did. It was his brother doing that, and what choice did he have in it? None. His brother could call at that exact moment and he wouldn’t even have the power to let it ring. 

“Nina, wait–” 

“I’ve BEEN waiting!” she cried, whirling around and looking into his eyes for the first time since she’d arrived. Benny had to step back at the intensity of the look, one laden with anger and pain. He caused that pain. 

“I waited and ENTIRE SUMMER for you! You told me it would be over after Abuela Claudia’s funeral. So I helped you plan it, and I waited after her funeral for you. And then what? Something else comes up, over and over and over again, and I _waited_ that entire time because I believed that you still cared about me!” 

“Please, believe me, it wasn’t my fault!” he protested, but she just shook her head. 

“Then whose fault IS it? WHAT is this all about?” 

He opened his mouth. _My brother,_ he desperately wanted to say. _My brother and his stupid agent business. I have to keep Usnavi safe._

But he’d asked George three or four times about telling the secret to someone else, and even if that someone was _Nina,_ George had flatly refused. The words were sealed off. 

“I–” 

“Goodbye, Benny.” 

Before he could protest further, she grabbed the door handle and shut it for him.

He stood staring at it– his own door, slammed in his face– for a couple of seconds, letting Nina’s words play over and over in his head. 

_Goodbye, Benny._

And she was gone. She was gone, and she wouldn’t be back. Ever. Even when she came back on breaks, she wouldn’t be his. They would never sit at the park again, just the two of them until well past nightfall. She would never again laugh and hug him around the waist and make him forget everything that was bothering him. And it was all his fault. 

Angrily, he kicked the door. It wasn’t the brightest idea, and his bare toe cried out in pain. 

The pain dissolved quickly into anger as the bitterly suffering part of his mind told him _no, it WASN’T his fault._

It was George’s. 

It was George taking him away from Nina. It was George making him keep secrets from her and making her feel like he didn’t care about her, when in fact, that couldn’t be more wrong. It was George that kept him from booking his vacation to California now that he’d saved up enough to go and visit her during fall break, because he needed someone in the neighborhood and Benny happened to live there. 

It was always fucking _George._

He picked up his phone and jabbed at the numbers. He answered on the second ring. 

“B-Wash! What’s up–” 

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” He yelled, and he swore he could hear George jump on the other side of the line. 

“What?” 

“NINA’S GONE! SHE JUST LEFT! AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” 

“Benny, I didn’t–” 

“SHE LEFT ME BECAUSE I COULDN’T TELL HER WHY YOU KEPT MAKING ME RUN TO EVERY SINGLE FUCKING PLACE IN THIS GODDAMN NEIGHBORHOOD EXCEPT FOR WHERE SHE WAS!” 

“Benny, calm down!” 

He had started pacing the living room furiously, and stopped, waiting for his brother to speak again. 

“Look. I’m sorry she left you. Have you tried apologizing?” 

“Only ten fucking million times. And how the fuck am I supposed to apologize when she’s on the other side of the country?” 

“I dunno, cell phone?” 

“She won’t answer me. And it doesn’t matter, because you make sure I can’t tell her anything, anyway.” 

“So this is _my_ fault.” 

“YES! That’s what I’m saying!” 

“I’m sorry the safety of an innocent man and the secrecy of an _entire government agency_ took you away from a couple of dates,” George muttered, and if Benny hadn’t already been boiling with rage, there was the tipping point. 

“Dates? DATES? They were more than just _dates,_ George! This is Nina! Nina’s the best thing that ever happened to me!” 

“Okay, well, again, I’m sorry, but protecting Usnavi from an agent out to murder him is also slightly important. So when you decide between a girl and this crucial federal operation, you let me know, because I have another task for y–” 

“NO!” Benny shouted into the phone, feeling the rage bubble up and spill out of his chest. “NO MORE TASKS! NO MORE LITTLE MISSIONS! I’M DONE WITH THEM!” 

“Benny, you can’t–” 

“You told me to choose between you and Nina? Well, I’m choosing Nina. I’m flying to California and I’m telling her everything.” 

“Do that, and there’s about seventeen warrants for your arrest right there.” 

“I don’t give a shit.” 

“Benny, you can’t leave, first of all, because if you leave, there’s nothing stopping from Usnavi from leaving, too!” 

“Not my problem anymore. I chose Nina.” 

“You don’t get a CHOICE, Benny–” 

“YEAH, YOU’RE RIGHT! I DON’T! I NEVER DID!” Benny was pacing the room again. “YOU NEVER EVEN GAVE ME A CHOICE ON WHETHER OR NOT MY ENTIRE LIFE WOULD REVOLVE AROUND YOU!” 

“Benny–” 

“I DON’T REMEMBER SIGNING UP TO BE YOUR OBEDIENT SERVANT! I WAS JUST FINE WITH MY LIFE WITHOUT YOU IN IT!” 

George stayed silent. 

“So you find yourself a new agent, because I’m out.” 

Benny hung up and hurled his phone against the carpet, huffing as he collapsed on the couch. 

_I’m not going to be another one of his stupid puppets._

He picked up his phone again and searched for the soonest flight to California. As it turned out, a seat had just opened up on a flight that left on Labor Day. 

What a fucking coincidence. 

He pressed book. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo Benny snapped.
> 
> Ch. 12 Preview:  
> Idk? Haha didn't have time to write it yet
> 
> Love y'all and as always, thanks for reading :)


	12. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa carries out her Secret Agenda, Sonny says stuff, Usnavi tries to fight both of them. John observes... and then gets some news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot? Wooow two chapters in a row? It's almost as if... as if there's a STORY going on here
> 
> But also it's IN THE HEIGHTS' 10TH ANNIVERSARY ON BROADWAY!!! (or one day after, depending on where you live lol) WOOHOO THANK YOU IN THE HEIGHTS FOR EXISTING

When they met, John had thought Usnavi and Alexander were literally the same person. But with every passing day, he realized a bit more that he was wrong. There was one thing that was completely different between the two.

Alexander had always had a way with words. Whether he wrote or spoke them, they were his most powerful weapon (though he wasn’t too shabby with guns and ships and shit, either). He made John feel things that he’d never felt before. Had Alex asked him to move a mountain, he probably would’ve done it in a heartbeat.

Whereas Usnavi, John was slowly beginning to realize, did NOT have a way with words. That’s not to say he didn’t _use_ them; the guy could talk for HOURS, no doubt about it. But the things he said were way different. He would ramble on and on about how yes, John was his friend, but no, if he wanted to get a job elsewhere, he could, but YES, HE LOVED HAVING JOHN WORK AT THE BODEGA, but no, it wasn’t like he couldn’t live without him there, but yes, he actually _does_ like hanging out with John, because they were friends, and on and on and on. Finally, John had to assure him that, yes, he liked working at the bodega with him, and then Usnavi would blush and start stammering that okay, that was a good thing.

That was pretty much the only difference between the two. They both had the same wide smile when they laughed, and both practically died without constant access to coffee. He even found out one night that Usnavi was, in fact, bisexual like his counterpart.

They had been walking home from the bodega after Pete walked in, said “I’m stealing Sonny, he’ll be back by ten” and literally swept the kid up and carried him out. They had been talking about the incident when Usnavi fell silent.

“I hope you’re okay, y’know, with the whole… boyfriends thing,” he had finally said.

“‘Course. It’s cool.”

“Bet you didn't see a lot of that in South Carolina, huh?”

“Oh, I saw none of it. My dad would’ve killed me if I brought home someone who didn’t ‘love as the lord intended.’” He imitated the pretentious, overly eloquent tone of his father and shuddered. There was one point in time when he’d brought Alexander home to meet him. It hadn’t ended well at all.

“Probably shouldn’t introduce him to me, then,” Usnavi replied before grinning nervously and averting his eyes to his feet.

They fell silent as John processed his words. “You’re–"

“Bi. I’m bi.” Usnavi cut in, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at John with wide eyes, almost as if he were asking for approval.

“Like the fourth of July,” John said before he could stop himself, remembering Alexander’s favorite saying. Usnavi laughed and immediately his posture relaxed, apparently finding the confirmation he was seeking.

“Bi like the fourth of July. I like that.”

That night, John couldn’t sleep. Every time he rolled over, he found himself smiling for no reason.

~~~

The morning after, Vanessa stopped by the bodega. Usnavi had been restocking the back, and the minute John greeted her, there was an enormous sound of boxes tumbling and suddenly Usnavi was at his side.

“Hi, Vanessa!”

She laughed at his sudden appearance and turned to search the aisles for whatever she came for. Thanks to his training and a little bit of experimenting, John knew how to make a killer coffee all on his own. He started on one now as Vanessa perused the shelves.

“For you, since you get all your coffee for free here. I want you to try this,” he said as she made her way up to the counter.

“Well, this is different. Thanks,” she replied, accepting it with a smile. As he rang up her items (Tylenol and a water), she slowly sipped it.

“Woah.”

“You like it?”

“I love it. What’s in it?”

“Some milk, and a _liiiittle_ bit of John’s secret ingredient.”

She leaned in uncomfortably close over the counter.

“What’s John’s secret ingredient?” she whispered in a low, almost sultry voice.

He leaned as close to her as he could physically bear.

“It’s a secret.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “So you’re not gonna tell me.”

“Not yet.”

She pulled away, giggling like a little girl (a trait Usnavi had definitely picked up from her) and sipped her drink again.

“Well, it’s as good as Abuela’s coffee that Usnavi gives me. Except, I think, the service is better.”

“I’m right here!” Usnavi protested from the shelves where he was restocking.

Vanessa just laughed and winked straight at John before taking her items, turning on her heel and walking out, the bodega door chiming merrily behind her.

He watched her go, feeling a bit out-of-place for some reason.

“What was that about?” John finally asked, still staring at the door.

“What was what about?”

“Vanessa bein’ so… flirty. Is she like that all the time?”

“She’s never flirted with _me_ before,” Usnavi grumbled.

“Well, you’re a special case.”

“I know I’m special,” Usnavi replied, making John snort. “But my point was that Vanessa’s not the flirty type. Not with the people she really knows.”

“Well, maybe I don’t know flirtin’ too well, but she was definitely doin’ it. She even winked at me.”

Usnavi walked over to the counter – or rather, stomped over – and slammed his hands down on the counter. It was almost a carbon copy of what Vanessa had done to him just minutes before, except much more violent.

“You’re telling me she was honest-to-god flirting with you?”

Now _this_ – his breath caught in his throat and his mind running at a thousand miles per hour – THIS is what he expected to feel when Vanessa was leaning toward him. But he hadn’t, and the feeling was only coming to him now. That was strange.

“‘Fraid so,” he uttered as nonchalantly as he could.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Usnavi muttered under his breath, finally breaking eye contact. John let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“What? Why?”

Then Usnavi looked at him again, rather startled, as if he’d only just realized John was still there. He would’ve been curious about that look if Usnavi hadn’t given him strange looks all the time.

“Because, y'now...” he trailed off, still wide-eyed.

“Because…?”

“...Because I swear to _God_ , John,” he said after a moment, suddenly regaining his composure, “I spent four years tryna get her to like me, and if you managed to do it in, like, a week, I’m gonna– GAAH!”

Usnavi collapsed dramatically, but from John’s side of the counter it just looked like he disappeared into thin air. He laughed. “No worries. Even if she liked me, I wouldn’t do anythin’ about it.”

Usnavi re-appeared again.

“Nah, I was joking. I don’t wanna keep you from that, I’m over her anyway.”

“Thanks, but really, I won’t. It’s just…” He trailed off.

He didn’t know exactly _why_ he wouldn’t do anything about it, but the concept of pursuing Vanessa just didn’t seem appealing to him. It certainly wasn’t _her_ – John totally understood why Usnavi might have been in love with her and all – but the concept of small talk and flirting and dates and girls in general weren’t all that exciting to him.

Putting it that way made it sound like he was gay or something. _Oh, boy,_ he thought. _Imagine what dad would do if I was gay._ Hastily, he pushed the thought away. That was his strategy all through high school and everything past it: don’t think about it. When everyone started flirting and dating and getting married and he was still barely even _talking_ to girls, much less thinking about LIKING one of them, he always pushed the issue to the back of his mind and casually changed the subject whenever someone brought it up. Even if it were a possibility that he might not be straight, his dad would ensure that he never saw the light of day again if he wasn’t. So it wasn’t even an option.

_Why am I still thinking about this?_ He thought, bringing himself back to the present. Usnavi still appeared to be awaiting an answer.

“It’s juuust…” he prompted.

“I dunno,” John responded, shrugging. “I guess I’d like to settle in a little more before I start thinkin’ about that stuff.” It wasn’t _entirely_ truthful, but it wasn’t a lie, either.

“Oh, sure, I get it,” Usnavi replied, before going back over to restock the shelves. John could feel himself finally relax as he walked away.

He checked his watch and frowned. Normally Benny would have come in by that time, but the man was nowhere to be seen. He guessed it probably had something to do with Nina leaving – but then again, he hadn’t even shown up to her going-away party, and from what he could glean off of Sonny and Usnavi’s conversations, the pair were going through a rough time.

The bodega bell chimed and he looked up, expecting to see him strolling in, but instead he saw Sonny saunter in with a lazy smile on his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he also saw Usnavi scowl and check his own watch.

“One hour and thirteen-and-a-half minutes late,” he commented icily. “Almost a new record.”

“Chillax, cuz. I made it here alive. Be grateful.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I should show my gratitude by cutting your hours then. And your salary. Or stop you from seeing Pete so late.”

“Hey, I said I’d be back by ten. Was I back by ten?”

“Just shut up and get to work,” Usnavi shot back. “Here, restock these.”

He threw a little bag of chips across two aisles at Sonny’s chest. Or – John _assumed_ that that was the intent, but in reality the bag flailed in the air for five feet and hit a box of crackers (which, by the way, shook a couple of times but didn’t even fall over).

He snorted, and Sonny laughed, too, as he strolled over to pick it up.

“Sure thing, cuz. I’ll work on these. You need to start workin’ on something a liiiittle heavier–”

Sonny was in firing range for when Usnavi threw the second chip bag, and it hit him directly in the face.

“YO, WHAT THE FUCK?”

John laughed and ducked away as Sonny picked up the bag and whipped it back at his cousin, hitting him square in the chest. Usnavi retaliated with fistful of more chip bags that rained down on Sonny, who swatted them all away and then threw them all back one by one. He watched the chip-fight that ensued for a while between the cousins, safely behind the cash register. He even pulled out his phone and managed to get a video of it before Usnavi squeaked out an undignified surrender and retreated to the back room.

“Good win, Sonny,” he commented, still laughing, putting his phone down on the counter and watching the kid do a little victory dance.

“Thanks,” Sonny replied. He was still dancing.

“Yoooo,” a voice said out of nowhere, and suddenly Pete was walking through the bodega door. John noticed that the two of them were almost never apart.

“I need a pack a gummy bears and–” he stopped mid-sentence to throw an odd glance at Sonny, who was still pumping his arms up and down without a care in the world.

“I’ll have whatever he had.”

Sonny laughed, finally stopping and walking down an aisle to fetch the candy.

“That’s one gummy bear pack and one victory dance. Anythin’ else?” he said, handing the stuff to Pete.

“Yeah. One kiss.”

He moved down to kiss Sonny, but the shorter kid squirmed away, still smiling.

“You’re growing soft on me, Pete.”

“Hmph. That’s not what you said last night.”

Sonny laughed again and John snorted.

As if he suddenly realized that they weren’t alone in the store, Pete whirled around and grinned sheepishly at John. “Sorry, man. Don’t tell Usnavi that.”

John was grinning as he replied, “Don’t worry. I know better than that.” He didn’t know why watching this couple made him so happy, but it did. Maybe it was the fact that his dad would be having a literal stroke at the sight of the two together that made it so entertaining.

“What are we not telling Usnavi, now?” Usnavi’s voice was approaching from the back room, and John ducked behind the fridge to avoid the look he’d have when he saw Pete in the bodega.

Unlike him, seeing Sonny and Pete together did not make Usnavi inexplicably happy.

~~~

“Did ya hear? Benny’s in California,” Usnavi said out of nowhere a couple days later. John turned and watched him stir the coffee.

“What? Why?”

“Apparently Nina broke up with him when she left. And he was so beat up about it, he went to go get her back.”

“Huh. Think she’ll take ‘em?”

“She better not,” Sonny piped up from the counter. “She better kick his ass all the way back to Washington Heights. So I can kick his ass all the way back. We’re gonna play Benny’s-ass volleyball with that _maldito cabrón._ ”

“Sonny,” Usnavi scolded.

“Don’t ‘Sonny’ me. Did Nina tell you what he did to her?”

“What’d he do?” John asked.

“He never showed up to anything. Their dates, picnics, even apology dinners– _nothing_.”

“What? That doesn’t sound like Benny at all.”

“Well, it’s true. And he never said why, only gave vague excuses. Nina should’ve dumped his sorry ass long before she left.”

“That’s so weird. There had to have been something going on that kept him away. Where could he have been?”

Usnavi shrugged. "I know Benny, and that sounds nothing like him. I have no idea," he said, looking at John. He didn't know, either.

He sighed. “This is why I don’t do datin’.”

Usnavi gave him a funny look, but went back to stirring his coffee. Sonny just grumbled something under his breath and went back to helping customers. John felt his phone vibrate and took the chance to check it.

**MarthaMarthaMartha**  
_Received:_ Call me when you get the chance

“Usnavi, can I step out for a bit?” John held up his phone, and Usnavi nodded and waved him off. He walked just outside of the door before pressing dial. The phone rang twice before the other end picked up.

“Hi, John.”

His sister's voice immediately made him grin. She was one of the things he'd truly missed about home, along with all his other siblings. He was the closest to her, seeing as they were the closest two in age and went through a lot of the same stuff.

“Hey, Martha! What’s up?”

“Some stuff. But how’s New York been treatin’ ya?”

“Well. Really well. The people are awesome, the food’s great, the weather’s been real nice so far. You should come up for a trip soon!”

“Good to hear. And maybe I will git on up there. I miss ya.”

She paused.

“But not anytime soon. John, I got some news for ya.”

“What is it?”

“Dad’s back home. And… he’s sick.”

“Isn’t that why we put him in the hospice in the first place?”

“Yeah. But we took him out.”

“How come?”

“John, he’s…” she trailed off, and John finally realized what kind of ‘sick’ she was talking about.

“Oh.”

“Yeah," continued Martha. "He wanted to be at home for his last days. And he wants to say goodbye to you, John.”

He felt somewhere in the middle of uncomfortable and sad. On one hand, he _despised_ his dad, and was 99% sure the feeling was mutual. If he hadn’t been dying, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to contact his son at all. John really didn’t want to spend time watching a man waste away and pretending that they really cared about each other. But on the other hand, the man was still his dad. He was the only real parent John had had since his mother died when he was a kid. And he was reaching out now, when he was on his deathbed, because he wanted to give his son some final words.

“Okay. Gimme a couple days to get up there.”

“Thank you. I know y’all had your differences, but he’s gonna be real grateful to see you again.”

_I'll believe it when I see it,_ John thought.

“How are YOU doing, Martha?” he said instead.

She let out a shaky sigh. “I’m alright. I’ve come to terms with it and all. It’s just his time.”

“I’m sure it is. And I love you, don't forget that.”

“Love you too, John. I guess I'll see you in a bit. I'll talk to you more then.”

“Alrighty.” He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket, allowing himself to reminisce about home. His sister had a marginally better relationship with their father than he did; in fact, nobody in the Laurens family really shared the same sentiments that he and his father shared. If anything, he had to be there for her and the rest of them. He looked back up to re-enter the bodega, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Who was that?” Vanessa demanded, inches from his face.

“Hey, Vanessa–”

“Hi. Now answer.”

He was undeniably bewildered by her sudden demands, but by no means was he gonna deny her.

“That was my sister, Martha. I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

Vanessa’s face instantly softened and she looked happy again. “Oh. And here I was thinkin’ you had a secret lover or something.”

“Me? Hah! Never,” John scoffed, holding the door open for her to enter. She smiled at him before doing so, and he followed her in.

“Vanessa! Good morning! Here’s your coffee!”

“Thanks, Usnavi. I gotta go, traffic’s pretty heavy today-"

"And also, I have to talk to you!" Usnavi's voice was suspiciously cheerful. John looked between the two of them, Usnavi staring pointedly at Vanessa and Vanessa glaring defiantly back.

"Well, it's gonna have to wait a while. Daniela’s gonna kill me if I’m late to work again. I’ll see you later, so…”

She paused while walking out, turned around, and smiled right at John.

“Bye, John.”

She walked out, leaving them in silence.

“ _Bye, Sonny. Oh, bye, Vanessa, have a great day! You too, Sonny,_ ” Sonny muttered under his breath. Usnavi ignored him.

"I'm gonna kill her," he grumbled again. "I'm literally gonna kill her."

"Why? What's happening?" asked John.

"Nothing," he responded quickly. “Just a little thing we got going... but anyway, you were talking to her outside? She helping you get over your ‘not dating’ thing?” He grinned, but it seemed different from his normal brilliant smile.

“Oh, no, no, that was a coincidence. I had to go call my sister.”

“Oh, okay. Is she doing good?”

“Well, she’s doing fine. It’s my dad that’s… not.”

“What happened?”

John looked around. It was just the three of them in the bodega.

“He’s… he’s sick. I gotta fly back home to... say goodbye.”

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry. Of course, you… you go ahead. Take all the time you need. We’ll be here for you when you get back.”

“Thanks, man.”

“It’s not a problem. Let me know if you need anything else, anything at all.”

_Actually…_ his mind supplied. Usnavi was offering an out.

“Well, there’s one thing you could do.”

“What is it?”

“Be an evil boss and say I can’t go?”

Usnavi’s face fell. “Why would I do that? I don’t want to do that!”

“I know, I know. I just… I don’t wanna go.”

“But John, you HAVE to! He’s your dad! I–” he swallowed and shook his head. “If I had the chance to go back and say goodbye to my parents, or Abuela Claudia, a _proper_ goodbye, I wouldn’t pass it up for anything. Trust me, if you have this chance, you _have_ to take it.”

John sighed. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… _God,_ it’s gonna be painful.”

“I know. Saying goodbye always is.”

That’s not how he meant it, but he didn’t have the heart to say that to Usnavi. He just gave a weak little smile instead.

“...Do you want me to go with you?”

John dropped the smile. That was actually a really good idea. His dad never liked the city much, and warned John constantly that he would make no friends there and generally have a shitty life. Walking in there alone would put his dad under the impression that he was right. Having Usnavi there would fix all of that – plus, it meant they could do touristy stuff and stay out of that house that brought back so many unpleasant memories.

“I mean, if you want,” Usnavi continued hastily. “You can say no. I won’t go if you don’t want me to. I get it, it’s a little weird, just showing up when you’re supposed to be saying goodbye to your dad. And you probably want someone who knows your family a little more, like your sister or something, so you don’t need me–”

“Could you?” John said, cutting him off before he could really start rambling. “I’d like that.”

“Wait really? Of course! We can make a little vacation out of it, it’ll be fun–” Usnavi realized his mistake and frantically started backtracking. “No! No, fun is NOT the word I meant, that was horrible, I’m such an idiot, I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re always nice to be around–”

“Usnavi.”

“And I don’t know if I’m nice to be around, too – probably not – but I just meant that I’ll do my best to keep you happy because you’ll need me to–”

“ _Usnavi._ ”

He stopped abruptly and finally looked at John.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t reply (probably for fear of saying something stupid again), but tried for a tentative, apologetic smile. John watched his crooked grin and felt a strange fluttery feeling in his chest. He was probably just happy that Usnavi was coming with him to see his dad. In fact, he was oddly looking forward to the trip now.

And his cheeks were beginning to feel hot because he was looking forward to the cool breeze on his dad’s manor.

Yeah, that was it.

“ _Oh, hey, Sonny, you’ve been working hard, do YOU wanna come on vacation, too? Oh, Usnavi, are you SURE? Of course, beloved cousin and my most loyal employee, you deserve a break. Okay, if you insist,_ ” Sonny muttered under his breath.

Usnavi ignored him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sonny is a Big Mood
> 
> Ch. 13 Sneak Peek:  
> The most unpredictable thing about George's daily schedule was that it was actually pretty predictable.
> 
> And, as always, thank you so much for reading this.


	13. George

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short lil chapter because a) G-Wash can't have you knowing all his government secrets and b) he's also not that good with emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'reclosetotheenddddddddddddddd  
> of this part  
> we're not even close to the end of this story tho  
> sorry lmao

The strangest thing about George’s unpredictable daily schedule was that it was actually pretty predictable.

Sure, he had absolutely no idea what might happen once he gave his security clearance and stepped into his pentagon-shaped office, but rarely did he ever have to do something totally out of the blue. He reasoned that that was one of the perks of being the boss – if something happened, he could just delegate stuff to his agents and continue on with his day.

So pretty much every day was the same: he’d get out of bed and his dear Martha would have breakfast and coffee waiting for him when he got out. Then he’d grab the food and the newspaper she’d set out for him, let her adjust his tie (he always put it on crooked, because tie-tying was not one of his specialties), and then kiss her good-bye. He’d leave their apartment, get in his car and drive/fly to work (of course, a top-secret organization couldn’t just have some office on the streets). There were a bunch of things that happened at the office, but he was usually out of there by nine. He’d fly/drive back home and be greeted by Martha at the door. She’d have dinner ready, and while they ate they would discuss the events of the day (Martha was mostly the one talking, as there was a lot of stuff George couldn’t disclose). After that, George did the dishes while Martha either went back to her sewing machine or got ready for bed, and then the two of them would cuddle on their little leather couch watching TV or doing a puzzle. Come bed-time, he’d set up the emergency on-call phone on his side of the bed and plug it into his earphones so that if it rang, it wouldn’t wake his wife up. Then, he’d give her a good-night kiss, roll over and sleep until five the next morning to do it all over again.

“George?” Martha asked one morning while straightening his tie.

“Yes, dear?”

“You’ve seemed a little on-edge lately. Is there something we should be worried about?”

“Don’t you worry, love. We’re safe. It’s just that one of my cases took an unfortunate turn.”

“Has somebody been hurt?”

“Not yet. It’s just…” George sighed. “If I told you, then I’d have to kill you.”

“You make it sound like I wouldn’t put up a fight.”

She gave him a mischievous smile and he grinned. She knew more government secrets than any other civilian woman in the country, and it was all that stupid smile’s fault.

“Fine. You know my half-brother, Benny?”

“Yes?”

“He left Washington Heights to be with his girlfriend in California. And now there’s nobody in that area to take care of our case there.”

“Wait– You mean you had your brother acting as one of your agents?”

“Yeah… it was an unfortunate situation, our agent there was killed, so I asked Benny to step in for the time being. He was never in any danger, though,” he added quickly at Martha’s concerned expression.

“Still, the poor boy must’ve been so overwhelmed.”

“He – yeah, he was. It was more the fact that I was taking him away from his girlfriend than anything else.”

“I’m sure she was overwhelmed, too. That’s like me marrying you without knowing what I was getting myself into.” She chuckled. “I don’t think I’d’ve stuck around, either.”

“But you did. And I’m so grateful for that.” George took her hand and pressed a kiss to it.

“Oh, George. No amount of waking me up in the middle of the night when you think you’re being quiet will ever make me stop loving you."

“I’m DOING MY BEST–”

Martha giggled and kissed him on the mouth to stop him from talking.

“It’s okay. I know you are. Now get to work, America needs you.” George smiled sheepishly and grabbed his bagel and newspaper in one hand and was about to grab his coffee in the other when he paused.

“Martha, you’re the best person I know.”

“I know I am.”

“What do you suggest I do about Benny?”

“What do you mean?”

He put stuff back down on the table to properly face her. “I messed up with him, I really did. I didn’t even give him a say in his own life, and now he’s mad at me.” Benny’s words still echoed in his head sometimes like it had happened just yesterday. _I was just fine with my life without you in it._ The thing that hurt the most was that it was entirely true. If George hadn’t stepped in, Benny would’ve still been happily living in the Heights.

“I just want him to know how sorry I am for everything, and that I still want him to be in my life, for more than just an agent.”

Martha nodded. “Well, perhaps you should tell that to him instead of me.”

“I _tried._ But he doesn’t answer my calls anymore.”

“Well, keep trying. I’m sure he’s just mad now, but he’ll cool down eventually. And then he’ll talk.”

“You think so?”

“George, he’s your little brother.”

“Half-brother.”

“Same difference. He loves you.”

“I’m not so sure he does anymore.” George mumbled, the words from his phone call echoing in his head again.

“Of _course_ he does. You Washingtons just have a really hard time saying what you feel. Trust me, it’s definitely in your genes.”

George grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

“Yes, I do.”

He checked his watch. It was almost six.

“Yeesh. I really gotta go now,” he said, gathering his stuff and giving Martha another quick kiss on the forehead.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Martha followed him to the door like she usually did, because on most days he didn’t have enough hands to close it on his own. Today was no exception.  
“Bye. Thanks for the advice. Oh– and Martha?”

She was about to close the door and stopped, looking at him with that little drowsy smile she always had in the mornings.

“Hm?”

“If I don't say it enough... I love you. Very much.”

Her smile widened, making little crinkles at her eyes. God, George loved that smile. If saying ‘I love you’ made it appear more often, he’d have to keep that in mind.

“I know,” she teased before smiling even wider and closing the door.

George let out a little huff and allowed himself a couple of seconds to stand and silently marvel at the wonder that was his wife before he REALLY had to get to work.

~~~

The car/chopper ride there was pretty uneventful, as it usually was. When he got into the building, though, his secretary was waiting for him.

“Sir! We’ve got a situation.”

“And good morning to you too, Miss Livingston. What’s the case?”

“Your favorite. Washington Heights.”

She had his attention now.

“What’s going on?”

“A technical issue, we hope. Our surveillance has either detected an anomaly in the system triangulators or we’ve got a real problem.”

“Alright, let’s head over to the room where it happens. Brief me on the way there.”

“Okay, so the main problem is that we’ve lost cell connection with Mr. De la Vega.

“Where was he when this happened?”

“...JFK, sir.”

“You’re telling me we lost connection at the airport?”

“Yes, sir.”

_Benny, you had ONE JOB,_ he thought exasperatedly.

“Did you cross-check his name with flight reservations?”

“Yes, sir, but we couldn’t find him or his flight. That’s why we’re hoping it’s just a technical issue.”

“What time was connection lost?”

She tapped her handheld tablet a couple of times. “Six-seventeen, sir.”

“It’s unlikely that he was just passing by the airport that early.”

“Do you think the rogue agent is flying him away? Should we shut down the airport?”

“We can’t. We already have a plane bombing affiliated with it. We can’t have people questioning its security and causing a mass panic.”

“Then I’ll tell them to look for private flights departing, sir.”

They finally arrived at the surveillance room and entered through the key-activated doors. There were only two or three people inside, and they all stood at attention as he walked in. He saluted them off quickly, and as his secretary addressed the room, George thought hard about who could’ve possibly taken Usnavi to the airport – and suddenly, there was a bright possibility.

“Hold on. Cross-check flight reservations with last name Laurens,” he ordered.

One of the men clacked briskly at his keyboard. “Sir, there are thirteen reservations for Lawrences today, but the earliest one isn’t until–”

“No, Laurens. L-A-U-R-E-N-S.”

He clacked some more.

“There’s one John Laurens, party of two?”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo. That’s them.”

“They’re on Delta flight 1776 to Charleston International Airport. It departed at six-fifteen, sir.”

“South Carolina, huh?” George crossed his arms and chuckled. Of _course_ John would’ve been the one to take Alexander out of the barrio. They were probably going on a little vacation back to John’s old home. He wondered exactly how much John had figured out about the identity of his best friend– and was also slightly curious to know how much Alexander had figured out about himself. The two of them together were always the worst combination– they could get themselves into _anything._

“Sir? Do you want us to call the flight back?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. What comes next is just a little bit of damage control. When is their return flight?”

“The tenth. Two days from now.”

“Huh. Short vacation. Okay, alert the agents in South Carolina that we’ve got a case coming in that needs Class-A protection.”

“There’s only one free agent at this point in time. Is that alright?”

“Should be fine. We just need to make sure that this signal–” he gestured to the mystery double agent’s last-known IP address that had been tacked onto the wall– “doesn’t show up in the area.”  
“Okay. We’ll get on it, sir.” The man nodded and turned around to type at his keyboard.

“I’ll be at my desk if you need me,” Livingston told him before walking briskly out of the room. George followed her out, heading toward his office. There would no doubt be a new case coming in very soon, so he took the opportunity to pull out his phone while he walked.

**Benjamin Washington**  
_Sent:_ Just so you know, Usnavi left the barrip  
_Sent:_ Barrio*

Curse his giant thumbs. He didn’t know how everyone had managed to master texting so well.

He put it back in his pocket, fully expecting Benny to not even read it. To his surprise, though, his phone buzzed a couple of seconds later.

**Benjamin Washington**  
_Received:_ not my problem

He’d finally reached his office, and once he was inside, he called him quickly.

He HAD to answer, he had just texted back. This must’ve been the breakthrough Martha was talking about. Now George could apologize again and let Benny know that it was okay to pick Nina and that he still loved him–

The little fucker _hung up_ on him.

He felt a wave of disappointment when he was met with a monotoned woman asking him to leave a message at the tone and was about to hang up when he remembered Martha’s final piece of advice.

_I’m sure he’s mad now, but he’ll cool down eventually. He’s your little brother, George. He loves you._

He took a deep breath and put the phone to his ear again. She was usually right about everything.

“B-Wash! It’s me. Look– I know you’re mad at me and all of this was my fault, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to put you through all this and I know Nina means a lot to you. I– I’m glad you chose her.” He took another deep breath. Martha was right again: the Washingtons were not good at saying how they felt. “I get why you’re ignoring me, and you have every right to be mad. But. Um– I miss talking to you. Benny, you’re my little brother– I love you, man. So… so, if you ever feel like talking to me again, just call. I promise I’ll be there for you.” He paused. “Okay bye.”

Pressing the end call button, he put his phone down, sat himself at his desk and opened up his computer. That was enough lovey-dovey stuff for one day. He let Benny slip to the back of his mind as he opened his case files and looked for one that needed his attention.

Today, he had three within minutes.

Perfect. He went to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tag yourself I'm George DOING MY BEST-
> 
> Ch. 14 Sneak Peek:  
> Usnavi on any day was a sight to behold in itself.
> 
> Qotd: is this chapter early? Or late? No but that's basically my perspective on time in general rn because of vacation and time zone changes so I feel so dead and it's only 4:20 pm hehehehehehehehehe like i said dead
> 
> Aotd: if I'm feelin' it tomorrow I might post a chapter (ergo, THIS chapter is late from LAST week). If not, well, this chapter is this week's early chapter.
> 
> Why is any of this necessary to know? Idk. I'm confusing myself. I'm going to sleep. Good night.
> 
> WAITNOIAMAWAKEOKOK I just remembered uhhhhhh spoiler alert read the voicemail again cuz it might be of some... significance
> 
> ok now good night.


	14. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Da-da-da-DAAAAA  
> Another chapter! It was gonna bother me if I didn't get my schedule back on track so here you go, a two-day-in-a-row update.
> 
> South Carolina pt. 1 of like 80: John vs. His Inner Gay  
> Idk but this is a long Carolina bit. I have the whole thing and I'm still tryna split it into logical chunks so forgive me if it's a lil choppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for minor racist & homophobic language. It's not real intense, but I should mention it starts when Vince speaks and ends at the ~~~.
> 
> :) Oh and I forgot to mention? I'm doing a thing where I'm using every single song title from Hamilton and Heights in this project so uhhhhh there might be an entire scene here dedicated to doling out the phrase 'farmer refuted'

Usnavi on any day was a sight to behold in itself.

Usnavi on an AIRPLANE, though, was a whole other thing.

Seeing as it was his first time travelling out-of-state, John had paid extra for window seats, which was probably one of the best decisions he’d made in a really long time. The second the plane started moving, Usnavi grabbed his arm and stared out the window, frantically whispering “oh my god, oh my god, we’re moving.” John had planned on getting some sleep while he let the other man occupy himself with the view, but that plan flew out the window – no pun intended – as soon as he looked over at him.

Usnavi looked back with the happiest, brightest, most excited expression he’d ever seen in his life, and in that instant, he knew there would be no sleeping on that flight.

“It’s like… it’s like… a giant bus! With wings!”

“Ohoho, just wait ‘til we get in the air.”

With a wide-eyed grin, he turned back around and watched the runway go by, tapping his finger excitedly on the armrest.

He couldn’t help but watch Usnavi watching the window. They way the light from outside framed his hair in a rich brown sort of aura and cast shadows across his excited features made it very hard to look anywhere else.

He finally drew away to watch the safety presentation, figuring that if the plane crashed, at least one of them should know what to do. Out of the corner of his eye, Usnavi kept staring out the window.

Finally, the final safety checks were made and the plane lined up on the runway. John poked Usnavi’s arm to get his attention, and he reluctantly turned around.

“Are you ready?”

If it was even possible, his eyes got wider and he grinned even more brightly, whipping his head back so he didn’t miss anything.

“Here we go.”

As if on cue, the hum of the engines grew higher and higher in pitch, and suddenly they were off. Usnavi gasped and basically plastered his face to the window, watching the world go by in a blur.

John just smiled and turned forward again, closing his eyes. The actual taking off was not his favorite part of the ride.

When he felt them tip upward, though, he heard Usnavi whisper-scream “oh my gosh” and then suddenly there was a hand in his. He opened his eyes and looked down with a start.

It was really no big deal; if anyone else had squeezed his hand he would’ve just smiled to himself and kept his eyes closed. But his heart fluttering madly indicated that yes, it _was_ a big deal.

He turned to look at Usnavi, whose nose was smashed against the plastic as he stared down at the rapidly shrinking city with a look of absolute wonder in his eyes. He stared at the ground like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Maybe his excitement was just contagious.

_Yeah, that’s it,_ John thought as he continued to watch him gaze at the city. _I caught his enthusiasm when he grabbed my hand. That’s why my heart is racing so fast._

He squeezed his hand back. Usnavi turned to John and he felt his heart leap to his throat. He still had that look of amazement in his eyes, like John was personally responsible for painting him that view of his city.

“Great, isn’t it?”

“It’s amazing,” Usnavi breathed back, still looking at him like he had hung the stars in the sky, too. And while Usnavi was looking at him like that, John felt that it was entirely possible to do just that: jump so high that he could put stars on whatever hooks they hung from.

The man turned his attention back to the window, and John found himself wondering if Vanessa had ever seen this look on his face – and if so, why she hadn’t fallen in love with him the instant she saw it.

He’d been staring at Usnavi for an uncomfortably long time. Shaking himself slightly, he looked past him as they ascended into the clouds. He didn’t fail to notice, though, that Usnavi was still gripping his hand.

The soaring feeling in his stomach was just because they were rapidly approaching cruising altitude.

_Yeah, that’s it._

~~~

The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful. Usnavi kept his eyes glued to the window for the most part, watching the land pass by below them. John occupied himself with a crossword puzzle in the plane magazine, while also frequently stealing glances at the other man. Just to make sure he was okay. He remembered _his_ first flight when he was eight or so, and it was to New York for one of his dad’s fancy parties. That was rough, and he couldn’t imagine how Usnavi was handling it so well.

Touchdown was not nearly as exciting as takeoff, and soon they were strolling with their bags through Charleston airport.

“So what happens next?” Usnavi asked after a while of walking.

“My sister’s gonna pick us up and take us to the house. It’s about a two hour drive, so I dunno, we can sightsee or somethin’ on the way there. Anythin’ in particular you wanted to do?”

“Not really,” Usnavi replied, before getting distracted by a moving walkway. John shook his head amusedly and hurried after him.

Martha was waiting for them at the pick-up terminal. When she got out of her car, John smiled and called her over, but the first thing she did was gasp and point at Usnavi.

“I thought you were dead!”

John had forgotten that Martha met Alexander and might have made the connection. Quickly, he stepped in between them, facing his sister with a grin.

“Hey, Martha! How’ve you been!”

“Your friend used to be dead!” was her only response, still staring over his shoulder.

“Yeah. It would appear so. Martha, I’d like you to meet Usnavi. Not to be confused with Alexander, the dead one. They look the same, but they’re different people.”

Warily, she stepped to the side to shake his hand. “So I haven’t met you before,” she said.

“Nope. But it’s nice to meet you, Martha,” Usnavi grinned good-naturedly, and instantly his sister’s face softened and she smiled back.

“Oh, well, the pleasure’s all mine. Sorry ‘bout the rough start, you just look–”

“–Exactly like him. Yep, I’ve been told,” Usnavi finished.

With that whole business done, Martha turned to John, arms outstretched.

“Hi, you. Don’t think you can get away without a proper hug.”

Oh, how good it felt to be hugging his sister again, and smell that familiar scent of strawberries in her hair. If there was one thing about Carolina that could always beat out the big city, it was this. He’d missed that in New York more than he’d realized.

“Look at you, all grown up!” She finally exclaimed, taking a step back to have a critical look at him. “The city’s changed you, John Laurens.”

“And you haven’t changed a bit, Martha Laurens. How’s the nursin’ coming along?”

As they began to pack up everything into the car, they slowly got caught up on each other’s lives again. John began to realize how distant he’d really gotten from his family, and how much he missed them.

Well, most of them. John never forgot the reason he escaped to New York in the first place.

“How’re the rest of ‘em doing?”

“They’re doin’ just fine– you just missed ‘em, actually, flew back a couple a days ago. Little Henry’s goin’ back for his senior year at Penn State, set to finish top of his class. He’s not so little anymore – fact is, he’s taller ‘n me. Polly’s just gotten into cooking lately, so she’s down in Greeneville makin’ her way up at some fancy restaurant.”

“Shucks, I wish I coulda caught ‘em.” John slid into the passenger seat, and Usnavi took the back.

“It’s all right. I told ‘em you were doin’ fine up there in your big fancy city all on your own, and they hung on my every word,” Martha replied, starting the car. She turned to him. “They still _adore_ you, John. It’s crazy.”

That familiar sense of guilt that settled upon him whenever he thought about his siblings appeared again.

“Do you still _adore_ me, Martha?” He teased, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest.

“Heck no,” she laughed back, pulling out of the airport. “I learned how much of a screwup you were waaaay back.”

_Ouch. Of all the phrases she could’ve used._

“Nothin’ gets past you,” he said lightly, trying very hard not to let her know how much it affected him. It didn’t work very well.

“Aww, you know I didn’t mean it that way,” she said, keeping her eyes on the road but slipping her hand into his and squeezing it gently. “I thought we were done with that.”

When he was twelve, his dad brought he and his younger brother Jemmy up to New England for some meeting. While his dad was working, Jemmy wanted to go to the hotel’s pool, so John took him down. He’d warned him not to run, but Jemmy, the typical 10-year-old didn’t listen. He ran across the tiles, slipped, fell backward and–

He winced. Never would he _ever_ be over the fact that his brother had cracked his head open under his care. Everyone had told him ‘it’s not your fault’ at his funeral, but he couldn't believe them. It took a long time for him to make his peace with it, but to this day he always felt a little guilty when he thought back on the incident.

They got onto the highway and drove for a while in silence. John watched the old, familiar city go by slowly and noticed how little it had changed. He supposed that’s what he had wanted to get away from: stagnancy. South Carolina wasn’t exactly known for its innovation and forward progress. Memories that came with the territory lingered so long, and hung so heavily, because there was nothing to chase them out.

It was Martha who finally spoke up. “Anyone hungry or anythin’? There’s a pretty good bakery on the way, and we could stop there if y’all want.”

“Whaddaya say, Usnavi? You can’t say no to good Carolinian baking.” John grinned back at Usnavi, who was–what a surprise– staring out the window.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, sure,” he mumbled distractedly, gazing at the skyline.

“You and your windows, man, I don’t get it.”

Usnavi finally turned to him, grinning. “I enjoy the view, what’s wrong with that?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it, I was just wonderin’.”

“Y’know, your Southern accent is a lot stronger here.”

“Can’t help it. It’s infectious, I guess. Maybe you’ll get a touch of it, too.”

Usnavi tried to imitate John with his best Southern twang– which is to say, a pretty bad one. “I sure as hell, hope to God not.”

John mock-gasped in offense. “Usnavi de la Vega, we do NOT use the Lord’s name in vain!”

“Alright, you two,” Martha interjected, smiling despite the sternness in her tone. “We’re in god-fearin’ territory now, and you know as well as I that those folks can hear the Lord’s name through steel walls.”

“Sorry, Martha.” Usnavi grinned and turned back to the window. John turned around, too, smiling to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Martha throwing him a suspicious glance.

“What?”

She feigned a look of innocence and turned back to the road.

“Nothin’.”

They pulled up to an older-looking strip mall, parking right outside of a small shop with loaves of bread in the window. It seemed almost more like a house, with a wooden door and welcome mat on the inside.

“Martha!” A jovial-looking old man called from the counter upon their entry. It may have just been his imagination, but he swore he saw her wince.

“Hey, Vince!” she called back. “Good to see ya again! I thought you only worked on weekends?”

“Used to – but Baron got the boot last week, so I’m fillin’ in ‘till we get a replacement.”

“Aww, shucks.”

“Nah, it’s all good, I don’t mind the extra dough. I caught him stealin’ bread and givin’ it to those filthy beggars down the street. Reported it to the boss and righted it all again.”

“Well, bless your heart,” Martha replied, with a touch of sarcasm so light John could only hear it because he’d been listening for it.

Vince didn’t hear it, though. He smiled and made a little modest gesture, as if to say ‘there was nothin’ to it’. “So, I see you brought some new customers? What can I get y’all?”

She did most of the ordering for them both, insisting that they get the ‘signature items’ before sitting the three of them down at a little table in the corner.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered once Vince had marched off into the back, whistling some tune that sounded strangely like an ice cream truck song. “Baron’s usually here ‘round this time. It’s a lot more bearable with him.”

“You think Vince is unbearable?” John replied, smiling. His sister rolled his eyes.

“Oh, that was only the tip of the iceberg. He used to be a farmer back when… never mind. Just – whatever you do, don’t bring up politics with the guy. He’ll even make _dad_ seem like an open-minded gentleman.”

As much as he hated his dad’s politics, he loved irritating Martha more. So as soon as Vince stepped back out with a paper bag full of biscuits, he offered to fetch them, and stood at the counter, throwing a wink back at his sister.

“Hey, Vince, how d’you feel ‘bout this election comin’ up?”

If Martha’s eyes were lasers, he’d have been burnt to a crisp in 0.2 seconds.

“Shoot, buddy, I’m surprised you even had to ask. I’m a McCain man, through and through. Ain’t no way in hell any negro is ever gettin’ into that office. It’d be a slap in the face to all the real gentlemen here in America – oh, and did you hear? Trump said Obama wasn't even _born_ here.”

Vince wasn’t done, but Martha sure was. She stepped up, practically dragging Usnavi out of his own seat.

“Well, I reckon we’d better scoot off, dad’s waitin’ for John–”

“Can you imagine? A negro president who ain’t even American. What a disgrace. He’s embarrassin’ himself by even RUNNIN’... man, I can’t wait for this election to come ‘round and watch him get humiliated. And it’s not only his African roots – have you HEARD the stuff he wants to do?”

John refused to leave the counter. As much as he despised everything that came out of this guy’s mouth, watching his sister nearly explode with suppressed rage was worth every single despicable word.

“I’m gonna git this Bin Laden guy,” Vince continued, attempting a horrible imitation of Barack Obama’s voice. “Hah. As if. McCain’ll get him, though. Just watch. If he’s _real_ smart, he’ll use Obama, too. I wouldn’t doubt HE knows where the guy is, they’re probably related or somethin’.”

“Okay,” Martha half-said, half-growled, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him as nicely as she possibly could to the door. At least, it seemed nice to Vince. John, on the other hand, could feel her nails digging viciously into his skin.

“And don’t even get me STARTED on this whole gay rights thing he wants to do. It’s disgusting. All those fairy boys need to grow up and learn their place. If God don’t give ‘em rights, it’s for a reason.”

The fun he’d had infuriating his sister wore off just around the time she practically clawed into his arm, and now John was actually glad that he was outside the door, far from strangling reach of the old man.

The only person still part-way in the shop was Usnavi. He was standing at the door, with one hand on the handle and the other holding the biscuit bag.

“...And there ain’t no man alive, and ESPECIALLY not some negro, un-American president, gonna give ‘em the rights God can’t. I do declare, if ANY of ‘em queer folk ever step foot in here, I ain’t even serving ‘em.”

“Uh… Vince?” Usnavi said, and John realized those were the first words he’d spoken since they’d gotten there.

“Huh?”

Usnavi held up the biscuit bag. He couldn’t see his face, but he could just tell by his stance that he was grinning.

“You kinda just did.”

A moment passed where he didn’t understand what Usnavi said, but then it hit. And Vince looked like he was about to throw up. John wished he could frame that expression forever, it was so funny. But then Usnavi said a quick “thanks,” shut the door, and turned around.

“Okay, go now, before he kills me.”

~~~

They were three miles out before Martha laid off the gas and started laughing so hard John feared for her safety. But then, he remembered Vince’s face and started to laugh, too.

“Usnavi, that was the best thing I’ve ever witnessed,” Martha said through wheezing breaths.

“Sorry if you’re never allowed there again,” Usnavi replied, not being able to help himself from giggling, too.

“Totally worth it to finally see that old farmer refuted. There’s lotsa biscuit places down here, but that face he made won’t ever come ‘round again.”

John did his best imitation of that wide-eyed ‘holy shit’ look, which made Martha laugh even harder. “Stop it! Stop it! I’m drivin’ here!” she cackled, and either by coincidence or to prove her point, he felt the car wobble a little.

“Alright, fine.” He turned to Usnavi instead, who was, of course, staring out the window.

“You, sir, just became the most wanted man on this side o’ the country, you know that?”

Usnavi just turned and grinned back at him. “I like to live dangerously,” he replied with a wink.

Martha laughed again, saying something about a death wish, but John’s mind had hit a blank and he didn’t quite catch it. That look on Usnavi’s face was the most Alexander-esque look he’d ever had. Caught off-guard, all John could manage was another smile before he turned around again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Martha giving him another suspicious glance.

“ _What?_ ”

“Nothin’.”

There was another period of silence, but this time it was a happy one. They ate strawberry-jam covered biscuits, which Martha insisted they savor because she was never going to be let into that bakery again, and talked about how different life was in New York. John watched fields of golden grass fly past him. They were out of the city now, and getting closer and closer to home.

“How’s dad holdin’ up?”

“He’s doin’ a lot better, eatin’ solid food and he’s not as tired all the time. ‘Course, that’s relatively speaking. We think he’s in that final surge of energy right before… y’know.”

“Right.”

Martha gave him a little, sympathetic side-eye, but in truth, he felt sort of relieved at the news. It was a horrible thing to say out loud, but it was true. It wasn’t that he had a problem with sick people; in fact, if his dad hadn’t forced him to go to law school, he would’ve pursued something in the medical field. But having a pleasant conversation with his father was hard enough on a _good_ day. If he went in there and his dad was throwing up or gasping for breath or struggling to talk, he would actually have to look like he _cared,_ too.

_That’s horrible,_ John thought. _He’s your dad._ But as much as he tried to feel genuine hurt for the man, all he could feel was relief. All he had to do was agree with everything he said for two days – 48 hours – and then he was home free.

Martha mistook his silence for sadness and slipped her hand into his again.

“You’ll get through it. You always do.”

He didn’t respond.

They drew closer and closer to the house, and all the happy energy in the car slowly drained away as he braced himself for the meeting to come. That house was full of memories, and scarcely any of them were good.

As their little town came into view, Martha spoke up again. “Oh, I forgot to warn you. A couple o’ news cameras are at the house, y’know, doin’ interviews and such. They’re probably gonna want one with you in it.”

“Fantastic.” Not only did he have to face his dad, he had to publicly look sad about it.

“Is that one of them?” Usnavi spoke up, pointing to a large white van with a satellite dish on the top and a blocky ‘KSCN’ painted on the side.

“That’d be them. Folks, welcome to the Laurens Manor.”

As they reached the top of the hill, the familiar view of the old home unfolded before them. The old-style colonial house had been repainted in bright tones of white and baby blue, and the ornate front lawn complete with a little fountain statue of a lion looked lush and green even in the middle of fall. The most jarring difference, of course, was the mass of trucks, trailers, and news vans clogging the street and driveway.

“John?” Usnavi said softly from the back seat.

“Yeah?”

“How come you never told me you were filthy rich? I coulda charged you, like, five dollars for coffee every day and you probably wouldn’t’ve batted an eye.”

He chuckled. “I’m not. They money’s all dad’s, at least for now. He only gives it to us for important stuff like schooling.”

“And only real specific schooling,” Martha added. “Think I became a nurse receptionist because it was fun? I hate blood an’ I hate paperwork.”

John had a laugh at that. “Let’s trade. I got a law degree and I hate our justice system.”

Finally, they maneuvered their way through all the news vans and up the (extravagantly long) driveway. A couple of bus-boys were waiting at the foot of the steps to greet them as they got out of the car.

“Good afternoon, Master Laurens. I trust you had a pleasant flight?”

He knew almost all of his dad’s servants, but this must’ve been a new one, because John didn’t recognize him.

“Yes, thank you.”

John could feel Usnavi staring incredulously at their exchange.

“May I take your coat?”

“That’s alright, I think I’ll keep it on. What about you, Usnavi?”

“I’m not wearing a coat,” he replied, bewildered. The boy turned smoothly to open the car door for him.

“Good afternoon, Mr…”

“Um… Usnavi. You can just call me Usnavi.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Usnavi. Oh, please, let me take that,” he replied crisply, taking his duffel bag right from his hands.

Usnavi looked positively startled and made to grab his bag back. Feeling slightly embarrassed, John quickly got out of the car to help him out himself.

“Thank you. That’s all of his stuff. If you could take that to the guest bedroom, that would be all.”

“Which guest bedroom, sir?”

Curse his dad’s stupid opulence. John could feel Usnavi blinking at him incredulously and fought a rising blush that was coloring his cheeks.

“The– ah– one closest to mine. Thank you.”

The bus-boy gave a tight, quick nod before hurrying off with the little duffle bag. He turned to Usnavi with an apologetic look, but he was busy watching Martha go through a similar exchange. Finally, he turned back to John, looking rather small.

“Seriously?”

John wanted to say that the gigantic driveway and ornate steps to the massive house along with the primly dressed bus-boys was just the really extravagant first impression, but the truth was–

“C’mon. It gets worse inside.”

~~~

John tried to give Usnavi the express tour, he really did. But the stupid house was practically _built_ to be shown off. In order to get to his guest bedroom, they had to walk through the grand entrance hall with its high-vaulted wood ceilings and big-ass crystal chandelier, past the kitchen where the cooks stopped to greet them as they passed, across the living room with its excessively soft carpet and stupid giant leather chairs, and up the marble staircase covered in a long, ornate Victorian rug (John hoped with every ounce of his being that he’d never have to show him the private elevator a few doors down). Finally, they reached the rooms.

“Here’s my bedroom. And there’s where you will be staying. We can go into yours, and I’ll help you get settled.”

As soon as they entered, Usnavi tentatively made his way over to the (silk-covered, king-sized) bed and sat down gingerly, as if afraid to touch it.

“It’s all right, you’re not gonna taint it, you know.”

He looked around. “I’ve never seen this much money in my life. And my abuela won a freaking _lottery,_ John.”

He sighed. “I know, it’s all a bit much. Dad’s a bit of a showoff.”

“No, I didn’t mean it as a BAD thing, it’s just–”

“It’s okay. I get it. Let’s just get you unpacked.”

“I can figure it out on my own, I think. Don’t you want to see your dad?”

_No,_ John thought. _No, I really don’t._

“I will. But this’ll be easy, and then I’ll go talk to him,” he said instead.

Unpacking was even easier than he’d hoped. All they had to do was hang a couple of shirts in the giant walk-in closet and put a comically out-of-place toothbrush in the polished-marble-peacock-shaped toiletry holder (right in its elegantly carved beak), and they were done. Usnavi resumed his position sitting on the bed and John took a seat on the chair (more like throne) next to him.

“Oh!” Usnavi jumped after a minute of comfortable silence. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here. You can go say hi to your dad now, I’ll just find something to do.”

“You sure?” John asked.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. This room is, like, the size of my entire apartment. I think I’ll do some exploring.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you need me to show you around?” he replied, desperately grasping at ways to stay in the room.

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m alright. Really. Just go, I’m taking up too much of your time.”

_Well,_ thought John resignedly. _You’ve stalled long enough. It’s bound to happen at some point or another._

He sighed. “Okay. If you need anything else just holler. Oh– and feel free to go ‘round the house, too. I don’t care. While you’re here, what’s mine is yours and all that crap.”

“Thanks,” replied Usnavi, touching his heart. “Gee, I can really feel that southern hospitality everyone talks about.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“See? Wow. I feel so warm and fuzzy inside.”

John really didn’t know why, but as he looked at Usnavi’s smug smile he felt kinda warm and fuzzy, too.

Whatever. It probably had something to do with being home again. He smiled back, turned to the hall and headed toward the master bedroom, where Henry Laurens was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 15 Sneek Peak:  
> Imma be real honest here and tell you that the first sentence of this chapter is too long for my lazy ass to type out but it's South Carolina pt. 2: John vs. The Long-Ass Hallway
> 
> Thanks for reading, I love you guys <3


	15. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> South Carolina Pt. 2: John vs. the Long-ass hallway (alternatively titled: John vs. Usnavi and his goddamned windows)
> 
> Here's the format now that I've got it figured out: South Carolina is a 4-part narrative - with one intermission - that leads into the finale of We Can Stay. What goes down in South Carolina? What goes down in the finale? The answer is near ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in BOTH chapters last week I had ONE thing I wanted to say and I, like an idiot, COMPLETELY forgot.
> 
> But  
> GUYS GUESS WHAT  
> I SAW HAMILTON  
> IT WAS AMAZING  
> 17/10 WOULD RECOMMEND

John’s father’s room was on the third floor (out of three) at the end of a long, well-decorated hallway, and on the way there John unwittingly found himself missing his little New York apartment. It was more of a home than this giant, sprawling, more-of-a-maze-than-a-house mansion ever was to him. Especially after his mother died, and the entire space seemed to get emptier.

He remembered his mother’s face vividly: sparkling green eyes, a smattering of freckles like his (she loved gardening in the sun), and soft, curly auburn hair. Every time he pictured her, he saw one specific look on her face: a half-grin, with her smiling eyes rolled in lighthearted exasperation. It was the look she gave him when father would say something particularly out there and he couldn’t even find it in himself to pretend to agree. He would find comfort in that look from his mom, as if it said, ‘I know, you don’t have to agree with him. Just let him have his words.’ When she looked at him like that, he knew it was okay to not see eye to eye with his father. It didn't make him any less of a person.

He missed that look, and he missed her always being there. When she passed, his dad got even _more_ outlandish, if possible, and John could sometimes barely hold in his arguments. For the sake of family, and for the sake of peace, though, he did what his mother had always done: just smiled along and gave that look to his siblings, too. Without her, it was hard and nearly unbearable at times, but they made it through.

John was able to go through that _entire_ thought process while he walked, which went to show how obnoxiously fucking long the hallway was. Finally, he reached the ornately carved oak double doors and took a deep breath, steadying himself to knock.

Out of nowhere, a woman popped up with an “oh!” and stepped in front of him, making him jump and take a step back.

“I’m so sorry, Master John. I didn’t even see you coming.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I just didn’t see you sitting there. I was just about to say hi to my dad.”

“Martha didn’t tell you?” the lady, who appeared to be one of his father’s nurses, replied after a pause.

“Tell me what?”

“I’m terribly sorry, but Master Laurens is out for the night.”

“Out?” John repeated. To his knowledge, bedridden people couldn’t exactly go out for a night on the town. “Where’d he go?"

“Oh, no, no. Out, as in, asleep.”

“Oh,” John said, feeling slightly stupid. “Wait. He’s asleep–” he checked his watch– “at four o’clock?"

“Yes, sir. He’s usually in bed around four-thirty or five but all this media news business has tuckered him out, and he’s just gone down.”

“Oh. That’s okay, then. I’ll come back tomorrow morning?”

“Sure thing. He’s usually up and alert ‘round nine o’clock. You’ll be here ‘till then?"

“Yep, we’re here for another two days. Just got in this mornin’.”

She nodded. “Martha told me. You must be pretty tired yerself, then.”

“Not as much as I’d’ve thought. It was a pretty nice flight,” he replied, smiling as the image of Usnavi gaping out the window flitted to his mind’s eye again.

“Good to hear. Well, then, you have a good day, Master Laurens.”

“You too, Miss…”

“Thalia.” She smiled. After giving a little sort of curtsy, she turned back to sit in a nearby chair in a corner (which he had definitely not noticed as he came in), and John turned back to the hall to make the disproportionately long trip back down to his room.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was glad that his father was sleeping. He had the whole rest of the day to relax before he had to worry about being the Model Eldest Son again. He pulled out his phone, planning to ask Martha if she could drive them somewhere to play tourist for a day (perhaps the turtle pond, so Usnavi could see the weird little turtles that he always asked about from John’s sketches) when he realized that Usnavi had texted him.

**US Navy™**  
_Received:_ um  
_Received:_ so take ur time w/ ur dad  
_Received:_ but i think im lost in ur house

John shook his head and smiled as he replied.

**US Navy™**  
_Sent:_ Where are you?

Usnavi was one of the only people he knew that still had a flip phone, so it always took him a while to respond. It was okay, though, because John was still walking down the long-ass hallway.

_Received:_ if i knew i woudnt be lost now wud i  
_Sent:_ Bitch  
_Sent:_ What do you see?  
_Received:_ um  
_Received:_ a door  
_Sent:_ Are you serious  
_Received:_ 3 doors  
_Received:_ im in a hall?  
_Sent:_ We have a lot of those  
_Received:_ am i gnna die here?  
_Sent:_ Just walk until you find a landmark, tell me and ill come find you  
_Received:_ am i taking u away from ur dad???  
_Sent:_ No, hes asleep and im coming to get u now  
_Received:_ ok i found a big painting of 2 trees  
_Sent:_ Be more specific, we have more than 1  
_Received:_ 2 trees  & a bird  
_Sent:_ ...Be more specific  
_Received:_ JFC I H8 THIS HOUSE  
_Sent:_ die here then  
_Received:_ 2 trees w/ a yellow bird  & fields of plants in the bg  
_Sent:_ Ok i know where you are dont move I'm coming

Usnavi was near the third floor study. After a few minutes, John found him standing under the plantation painting, looking rather embarrassed.

“Your savior is here.”

Upon seeing him, Usnavi ran at him and crushed him in a hug.

“Oh, thank _God_. I thought I really was gonna die here.” John didn’t respond until Usnavi released him, partially because he had nothing to say and partially because he suddenly found himself unable to think very well.

“So what brought you upstairs?” He finally managed. “Or were you just exploring?”

“I… um. Well, this is going to sound crazy, but…” Usnavi trailed off, suddenly wearing a bewildered expression. “Wait. I went up stairs?”

“Yeah, man. You’re on the third floor.”

“There’s a THIRD FLOOR?”

John laughed. “Yes. We’ve got three floors and a basement.”

“Where’d all your money even _come from?_ ”

“It’s all real old. My family, far back as I can remember, owned these here plantations.” He gestured to the painting on the wall. “I ain’t too proud of it, but at one point or another we owned the third-largest slave group in America.” He shrugged, getting a familiar bad taste in his mouth. His father, of course, loved telling that story.

“Oh,” was Usnavi’s weak reply.

“Yeah. It’s ok, I know it ain’t the most respectable thing in the world. I try not to bring it up that often.”

“Well, I’m sure they did some good things, too.”

“Maybe, but certainly not in my lifetime. All my good memories come from my mom’s side of the family. The only good memory I have with my pops is… well, it was that room there.” John pointed to the study behind him.

“D’you wanna see?”

“Sure!”

The door creaked as John pushed it open. The room was exactly how he remembered it: dark oak planks covered nearly every surface except for a large window that let in the streaming afternoon sunlight. A matching set of oak furniture, including floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, sat under pages upon pages of books, notes, and other sheets of paper. The familiar scent of ink and paper calmed him instantly, even though the room clearly hadn’t been used in a while; a thin film of dust was illuminated by the sunlight and clung to nearly every surface.

“This is the study. I practically grew up here, when I wasn’t playin’ outside. After school my dad would take me up here and help me with my homework. This is where I learned to read, and learned Latin, and first got interested in medicine.”

“Woah,” Usnavi breathed, walking around slowly and sending up golden flecks of dust wherever he touched. “This is so cool. If I had siblings, I’d never leave here with them, either.”

“Well, actually, Martha an’ all them didn’t come in here too often.”

“What? Why not?”

John sighed. He knew the subject was going to come up eventually. There was no use avoiding it. “It was always me and my… my brother who used it. When he died, dad decided to move Martha and Henry and Polly’s studies to the one downstairs.”

Usnavi looked at him the same way anyone looked at him when he mentioned a family death. It was more bearable coming from him, though, in a way. It was less… pitiful. More understanding.

You lost your mom _and_ a brother? Oh, John. How’d he die?”

“Yeah, I know. Jemmy was a couple years younger than me. Died when he was ten, in a pool accident.” _It was my fault,_ he added in his head, but didn’t say it aloud. For some reason, he knew that Usnavi wouldn’t believe him if he did.

“Oh, that’s what you were talking about in the car with Martha, wasn’t it? That’s the thing you weren’t over with?”

He hadn’t even realized Usnavi had been listening to that conversation, and suddenly felt a rush of gratitude that he had heard it and hadn’t asked anything.

He nodded. “It was hard. When my mom died, we all knew it was coming. It was her sixth miscarriage, so somethin’ was bound to happen. But Jemmy was so… _sudden._ ”

“I know, I feel you. At least neither of them are alone now. They have each other."

Huh. He’d never thought of it that way.

“I… I guess you’re right,” replied John. “Come to think of it, they’re buried together, too. We got oaks planted in their memory.” He gestured to the window, which offered a view of pair of lone trees standing in a field of golden grass. Usnavi his followed his eyes to where he was pointing, then did a double take.

“Wait, that’s– that’s the _painting_ outside!"

“Yeah… whenever I came into the study after that, it’s all I could see. I figured I might as well add to their memory.”

Usnavi took a little while to decipher that one. “Wait. You _made_ that? That’s YOUR painting?"

John shrugged, watching the sun’s rays burst through the leaves. “Yep. Only painting of mine my dad ever hung up.” He smiled to himself. “I think it was ‘cuz of the guilt factor, but hey, he hasn’t taken it down yet.”

“That’s amazing,” Usnavi breathed, turning back to the window. “This is where John’s big break happened. It all started with his family.”

John was going to say something along the lines of ‘nah, I’m not an artist’ when his breath caught in his throat.

Usnavi’s entire body was bathed in a golden light from the afternoon sun as he stared out the window. His hair looked like it was shining, giving off a warm glow. The way his eyes shone radiantly against his golden skin and how the dust from the room seemed to reflect his light made just made him look–

Look…

John couldn’t find the word. He couldn’t find _any_ words, really, as he stared quite helplessly at the other man. Words were never his thing, anyway. He felt things with pictures.

_Pictures,_ he repeated to himself, forcefully blinking away his stupor.

“Can I draw you?” he finally asked, realizing at that moment how desperately he wanted to do it. He... he _needed_ to create that image, to build his radiant frame on paper, to feel that warm tug deep in his gut; _God,_ he wanted to feel that forever.

But the way Usnavi was looking at him made him realize how creepy his sudden request was.

“I– I mean if you want,” he corrected hastily. “You don’t have to, but you’re standing right by the window and the lighting is perfect and I just–"

“No, no, I _want_ to be drawn. It’s just… I didn’t think I’d make a very interesting drawing subject.”

“Are you KIDDING? You’re right there and it’s– just… and the way– you know what? It doesn’t matter. Just… look out the window again. Look at the trees.”

Usnavi obeyed, the sun capturing his features again and holding them delicately. Before the light could sink any further, John pulled out his phone and snapped a couple pictures, trying to get the framing and background all right. Usnavi didn’t seem to notice when he was done, because he kept staring out the window with that same bright expression on his face.

“Um… you can move now, if you want."

He turned to look at John utterly surprised.

“What?” asked John.

“You’re done already? Jesus, I knew you were good at drawing, but I didn’t know you were a PRODIGY–”

“Usnavi I took your _picture_. I can use that so you can move. This ain’t the 1700’s, you know.”

“Oh. Right.”

They stood there grinning at each other for a solid ten seconds, lost in their own little world. It was Usnavi who finally broke the silence.

“So? Are you gonna start on it?”

“Oh, you want me to draw it NOW? It’s gonna be pretty boring.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just read all these books while I wait. That’s okay, right?”

“Yeah. Knock yourself out. I’m probably gonna take a while.”

He nodded and turned to the bookshelf, and John walked over to the oak desk, sitting himself down and reaching into a drawer for his art stuff. It was all right there, where he remembered it last. He pulled out his supplies, ripped off a sheet of drawing paper, and plopped it on the desk.

He took a deep breath, staring at his paper and then at the image propped up on his phone. He drew people all the time, but this was somehow different. People were, well… _people,_ and Usnavi just seemed more than that. He was… he was a _force._ Looking back at his picture, John didn’t just see light reflecting off of him, it was radiating _from_ him, hitting the dust and the walls and the window and lighting up his eyes with gold.

_That’s_ why it was different– he wasn’t just capturing a form, or a body. He was trying to capture energy, and light, and _life._

It was, he realized with a start, like trying to draw Alexander again. Not only feature-wise (although it was true that their pictures would be undoubtedly similar, seeing as they had the same face), but energy-wise. Alexander was more than just the body he had, and John had been so afraid to draw him because he didn’t think he’d be able to capture the passion and fire and force exploding from everything: from the way he stood to how he spoke and wrote, and especially his eyes. The picture on his wall back home didn’t even do the man justice, but he’d had to complete it after he died. Their letters had been lost somewhere on the way from South Carolina to New York, so that image was the only thing he had left of him.

John finally put a pencil to paper. Usnavi wasn’t dead, so he didn’t know why _this_ image was making him feel so anxious.

Save for the occasional rustling of pages as Usnavi flipped through his dad’s massive collection of books, the study was quiet. The light fell quickly past the field outside, turning the light from golden-yellow to orange to dusky pink. Usnavi was sitting on a chair right by the window, and John couldn’t help but look at the light changing on his face.

“This sunset is _beautiful,_ ” Usnavi finally said, breaking the silence. He was staring out the window – _again_ – and an involuntary smile tugged at John’s lips. “You saw this all the time?”

“Only on the days when I had a lotta homework or another Latin lesson. Otherwise, I’d be outside playin’ in it.”

“Yeah, well, if your freckles are any indication, you played in it quite a lot.”

John chuckled, brushing a stray eraser shaving from his paper. “Well, you’re not wrong. I loved the sun as a kid. My mom did, too, she was always insisting we needed a ‘healthy dose of sunshine.’ To me, it was more than light, it was… freedom. You can do anything you want, _be_ anyone you want, when you’re outside in the sun. I mean, I still feel that way now, but, y’know–” he gestured to his face. “I can’t get too much more of it, else I’ll change color altogether."

Usnavi just gave him a grin and went back to his book. John blinked, trying to capture that look in his mind’s eye and remember it. For his drawing.

His phone buzzed suddenly, knocking it from its propped-up position on some books, and he jumped at the sound, slashing a stray mark across Usnavi’s arm (the sketched Usnavi, not the real one). Grunting, he picked up an eraser and rubbed the mark away before checking the source of the disturbance.

**MarthaMarthaMartha**  
_Received:_ Where do you wanna go for dinner?  
_Sent:_ do we have to go out?  
_Received:_ John,,  
_Sent:_ i know i know but we’re kinda busy in the study  
_Received:_ Whatcha doin up there ;))))))  
_Sent:_ um  
_Sent:_ im drawing and usnavis reading  
_Received:_ Nerds  
_Sent:_ fight me  
_Received:_ I’m coming up right now  
_Sent:_ okok dont im sorry  
_Received:_ Lmao I’ll just bring you up whatever the chefs make

“Whatever the chefs make” in the Laurens household turned out to be, in fact, filet mignon with some sort of butter sauce.

“This is ridiculous,” Usnavi muttered as Martha left the study to go eat dinner with Thalia and the bus-boy (the same, unfamiliar one from their arrival) retreated to the hall. “This is what you order at a restaurant that you spent your entire life savings going to.”

“The chefs like to show off.”

“They’re crazy.”

John shifted uncomfortably. The topic of his father’s wealth always put him off, especially now that he saw how life was like back home in the barrio.

“Speaking of crazy,” he started, changing the topic, “You were saying something about that earlier. I asked you why you were up here in the first place and you said something about you going crazy?"

“Oh,” replied Usnavi, biting his fork thoughtfully. “That’s right. I’m not exactly crazy, though you might think so. I feel like this all the time. But anyway, I was wandering around because this house… I dunno, it feels… _familiar._ "

John frowned. “Familiar?”

“Until I got lost, of course,” added Usnavi quickly. “But yeah, like I’ve… like I’ve been here before.” He put a hand over his right eyebrow, something John noticed that he always did when he was deep in thought. He wondered what exactly went on up there.

“I don’t think you have, I mean unless I somehow knew y-”

_Alexander was here before,_ he thought suddenly.

Alexander’s visit had been much different than Usnavi’s. He came to help organize John’s militia of people of color and the trans soldiers who had been banned from service and stayed in John’s bedroom for one night. It was supposed to have been a two-week visit, but the next morning Alexander had met his father and, well, it went about as well as one would expect. He stayed at a hotel fifteen minutes away for the rest of the trip.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Usnavi continued, watching him concernedly. He must’ve looked like he was thinking pretty hard. “I get this feeling all the time. It’s like déjà vu, but… with really specific events.”

“Like what?”

“Like anything that might be linked to my past. Remember how I told you I can’t really remember anything past four years ago?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it’s kinda the same thing. I don’t know for sure, but I’m starting to think that all these little things that feel familiar were because I knew them before… before I got sick. The people around the barrio, they make sense, because, well, because I lived there before. But other things, like this house, I’m still not sure how they fit in. Clearly I’ve never been here before, seeing as I’ve never so much as ridden a plane. That’s why I went exploring, to see if there’s some way all this could be linked to… the younger me.”

“Did you find anything?”

“I got lost. So… no.”

“Well I dunno about you, but I’m curious about this whole past thing. You wanna know my theory?”

Usnavi sighed. “Is it that I’m related to Alexander?"

“Yeah! I mean, look at the facts!”

“Sometimes I wonder that, too. I mean, all this… I probably am, aren’t I? There’s no other explanation for why I look just like him, or why I remember all his friends. But this house? How does that fit in?”

“I still don’t know,” replied John, chewing the tines of his fork. “I mean, the only one to ever visit the house was Al-”

“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, and the study door opened with a _bang._ John jumped and dropped his fork, which caused an even louder clatter on the oak desk.

The bus-boy stood at the door, looking more than a bit embarrassed. “And I apologize for the noise. I didn’t know… I was unaware the study door was so well-oiled.”

“That’s okay,” replied Usnavi, wiping off a bit of spilled sauce from his pants. Apparently the noise had startled him, too.

“The chefs informed me to ask you if there were any requests for the next course.”

“THE NEXT COURSE-”

“He means dessert, Usnavi,” John cut in, snorting at Usnavi’s indignant shock. He then turned to study the boy in the uniform.

Something about this was off. Bus-boys rarely ever acted as messengers; if anything, the chefs would come up and ask themselves. Besides that, it was basic protocol to knock and wait to be invited in - unless there was an emergency, and asking for dessert was not an emergency.

Besides that, this wasn’t one of the boys he recognized - and he recognized quite a few, considering they’d been around all his life. A lot of the Laurens servants’ children grew up in the manor, and he always saw them around the grounds.

Still, he wasn’t one to tell them off. Especially if he was, in fact, a new recruit. If his father had locked them into this shitty job, he always told himself, John wasn’t going to make it worse for them.

“Um, not particularly… actually, I think I’ll be more than satisfied with this dinner. What about you, Usnavi?”

“I’m good, too.”

The boy was looking at Usnavi with an expression John could only describe as heavily guarded. “Alright, I’ll let them know.”

“Thank you.”

After a pause, the boy nodded and retreated outside again, closing the study door softly behind him.

It wasn’t until his footsteps faded down the hall that John spoke again.

“That was weird.”

Usnavi snorted. “What’s weird is that your house doubles as a five-star restaurant. I’m half-expecting someone else to walk in with the bill.”

“No, about that boy. He didn’t seem off to you?”

“You’re asking the wrong man about your servants, my friend.”

John frowned, then shrugged. Usnavi was right, after all: there was a lot more wrong with this mansion than how the bus-boys acted.

“Never mind.”

As they ate, the sun finally set all the way and the stars began to show themselves. That was another thing about South Carolina – it didn’t have nearly as many lights as New York, so you could see the stars much easier.

As if it were a surprise, Usnavi was staring out the window again.

“Dude.”

“Hmm?” he replied, still not drawing his eyes from the view.

“Refresh my memory – New York DOES have windows, right?”

He turned defensively. “Okay, so I like the view. Sue me."

He chuckled. “I’m not accusin’ you. I’m just sayin’, there doesn’t seem to be much of a view right now.”

“Are you KIDDING? This is my favorite view of all time! Come look.”

He put down his pencil and walked over to where Usnavi was sitting. “What am I looking at?"

“Sit down.”

He sat in the seat next to him, turning to face the window.

“Just look at how _peaceful_ it is out there. I mean, everything you said about the sun’s great, but _this?_ You can’t beat this. And it’s– it’s _safe._ It’s always there, every night. Abuela Claudia used to tell me that everyone who’s loved me watches down on us from the stars. And they’re… _there._ Always there.”

“A constant,” John said, nodding.

“Yeah – a beautiful constant. I mean, that sunset, it was brilliant, but so… fleeting, y’know? Temporary. Like – like that Robert Frost poem!”

“What?”

“Nature’s first green is gold,” he started, staring out at the stars. “Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf’s a flower, but only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf, so Eden sank to grief. So dawn goes down to day–”

“Nothing gold can stay,” John finished with him. “You know that poem?”

“Only because I just read it,” he replied, smiling and pointing to the book in his lap.

“I love that poem,” John replied, smiling. “‘Nothing gold can stay’. I think it makes those golden moments all the more… I dunno, valuable. Like, you gotta enjoy them all while you can.”

“I think there’s a whole other beauty in constance, though. Like peace. Safety. It's the best feeling in the world. Like being able to stop and take a breath and knowing that everything you had will still be there when you come back. Like being absolutely _certain_ of something.”

John was still looking at the stars, but he felt Usnavi’s eyes trained on him. Despite himself, he felt a heat begin to rise in his cheeks as he turned to meet his eyes.

“I thought we were lookin’ at the stars?” he half-asked, half-teased.

“Maybe I am,” Usnavi replied lightly, still gazing at him. John was a little confused by that, because he definitely _wasn’t_ looking at the stars, unless he had stars on his face that he didn’t know about. Still, the sentence made his heart do a little happy dance and his cheeks redden even further, until he realized–

_Freckles. He’s talking about my fucking freckles._

“Oh, shut up!” he laughed, shoving him good-naturedly and grinning. Usnavi just sat back up and shrugged, laughing a little despite himself.

“I’m serious! Your freckles are beautiful, John. Accept them. Love them.”

_Your freckles are beautiful, John._

He was blushing again and he could feel his (probably stupid-looking) grin starting to hurt his cheeks. “Whatever. I think it’s time to find our way downstairs, seeing as I’m turnin’ in and if I leave you here you’re gonna get lost again.”

“Did you finish the drawing?”

“I got most of the general form done, I just gotta do the color an’ shading stuff tomorrow. I’ll do it after I talk to my dad.”

“Okay. But I wanna see it before we leave.”

“No worries,” John replied, turning off all the lights in the study as they started toward the door. “I’ll finish it."

The way back to their rooms was pretty long, mostly because John refused to take them down the elevator. It worked out for the better, though, because by the time they got to their rooms both of them were pretty tired.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow morning. Are you gonna come with me to meet my dad?”

“Do you want me to?”

John thought about it, and for some reason Alexander’s visit came to mind. He smiled. “Yeah, I kinda want him to meet you.”

“Okay, then. Well… g’night.”

“Goodnight.”

They retreated into their respective rooms after one last shared grin. John was ready for bed pretty quickly, only pausing for a moment at the sight of his face in the mirror.

_Your freckles are beautiful, John._

Unable to contain a smile, he climbed under his covers and closed his eyes, willing sleep to overtake him. But as tired as he was, he couldn’t drift off. The image of Usnavi bathed in gold just wouldn’t fade from his eyelids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 16 Sneek Peak: (The Stanford Intermission)  
> "Well well, if it isn't Nina Rosario."
> 
> ANYONE WANNA YELL ABOUT HAMILTON IN THE COMMENTS MORE LMK I'M TOTALLY DOWN


	16. Nina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> South Carolina Pt. 3: The Rosario Intermission or idk what I called it already it's 3:07 am and I'm too lazy to check

“Well, well, if it isn’t Nina Rosario.”

Ricky stood with her arms crossed, characteristic playful glint in her eye. Nina beamed and tugged her suitcase along to hug her.

“I’m back,” she confirmed, holding her roommate at arm’s length and looking her over for a second before rushing back to pay the taxi driver. As he thanked her and pulled away, she turned around again, taking in a breath of the fresh, pine-scented Stanford air.

“I’m glad. I was seriously considering dropping out without my best friend,” Ricky continued.

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t doubt it,” she warned, picking a leaf off a nearby bush and flicking it away. “Calc 53 literally kicked my ass to hell in second semester.”

“Please. Your idea of hell is– what, a B?”

“ _Worse._ A C. And I actually almost _failed_ the midterm exam.”

“How tragic,” Nina smiled, rolling her eyes. Ricky was double majoring in biomechanical engineering and computer programming. She was basically a human supercomputer with biting sarcasm.

“Your hair looks nice, as always,” Nina commented as they walked. Ricky’s hair was shoulder-length, straight and a silvery lavender color. When she’d left it had been navy blue, and before that, blonde, and before THAT, a seafoam green. Ricky, among the rest of her talents, could give you a full-on professional makeover; she probably could've minored in cosmetics, too, if she had the desire. She’d almost convinced Nina to dye her hair at the end of last year, but Nina had more sense than to go back to her parents with purple hair. She loved them to death, but they found change a little… _difficult._

They got to the dorms just about then, and Nina paused, looking up at the ivy-covered building with slight trepidation. The last time she walked up to this building tugging a suitcase behind her, she was a hopeful freshman ready to fly through college just like she had in high school and make a name for her family.

Things had certainly changed since then.

“Don’t worry,” Ricky told her, sensing her apprehension. “The freshman year’s always the hardest. You got through that already.”

“No I didn’t. I got through one semester, lost my scholarship, and took my academic leave. Technically I’m still a freshman.” She was taking eight classes a day just to get caught up; hard, the academic counselor had warned her, but not impossible.

“Except now you’re one year closer to drinking,” Ricky pointed out, winking as she unlocked the doors to the building. “Legally, that is.”

Nina rolled her eyes and Ricky sighed. “Seriously, Nina. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna let you get all caught up like last time. Now that I _know_ you were struggling, my resolution for this school year is to be a better friend.”

She paused for a minute in front of their room. “And also pass my classes.”

Nina laughed and thanked her as they stepped into her old dorm. They had agreed to apply for the same room - even though it brought back some hard memories - because it made it seem like she had a real home here. Coming back now, though, her side of the room paled in comparison to the other side; Ricky’s walls were covered in posters and a peg-board filled with pictures and little string lights shaped like batman.

“Wow. I see Marlo grew up.”

On her desk sat what _used_ to be a cute little orange-sized cactus they had named Marlo, a reminder of home for Ricky the Arizonian. Now Marlo was easily two feet tall and had a stump close to that of a good-sized tree’s.

“Yeah,” Ricky agreed, picking up a comically small watering can and giving it some moisture, “I don’t think I was supposed to keep it indoors for this long. The lady I got it from didn’t give me a time frame. But then again, she probably thought it was gonna die before it got to this point. So I’m keeping it around as a, y’know, ‘fuck you, condescending white bitch at Walmart.’”

“That’s oddly specific,” Nina laughed, laying her suitcase on the ground and unzipping it.

“But enough about me and Marlo,” Ricky continued, flopping down on her bed and its cat-themed sheets. “Your summer must’ve been way more interesting than mine. What happened? What did your parents say?”

Nina sighed and told her about how her parents took it when she told them about dropping out, and then about Abuela Claudia, and the lottery money. She left Benny out of the story completely. Her summer was _fun,_ she had decided, even with him messing it up. So she focused on the fun.

“You ate WHAT? Man, I’ve always wanted to try one of those!”

Nina was recounting the time Vanessa had gotten them each a ghost pepper (from god knows where) and decided to juice hers out and drink it in shot form. For some time there she seriously thought her best friend was going to die, if her anguished screams were any indication.

“Well, I can tell you from experience, no, you don’t.”

“Maybe I can get one somewhere around town,” Ricky wondered aloud, ignoring her. “Hey, speaking of food, you wanna go get something? I’m kinda hungry.”

“Oh… uh, yeah, I’ll come with you, but I’m not gonna get anything. I… just ate.”

No, she hadn’t. She was hungry, too, but Ricky’s meaning of ‘getting something’ was sitting down at a restaurant and ordering one hundred and sixty dollars’ worth of food. It was a part of the ‘new language’ she’d started to catch on to in California, where the skies were bluer and the people were richer. A _lot_ richer. She could just go down and get something from the dining hall later.

“Nina Rosario,” Ricky scolded, looking her up and down critically. “This better not be about money. I _told_ you, I can cover you.”

“No, it’s really okay,” she said quickly. “I’m not hungry.”

“C’mon,” Ricky said, cutting her off. “Let’s go.” Ignoring her protests, she grabbed her keys and Nina’s wrist and marched them to the door.

Last year the girl had spent half the time being Nina’s go-to person to vent to and the other half of the time completely ignoring her, and it seemed as though nothing had really changed. Nina decided it was for the best. Ricky, exasperating as she was, always seemed to be right about what would make her feel better.

As she let Ricky drag her along, Nina found herself begin to relax. They ended up at a restaurant not too far away that she’d never tried before with Ricky and a whole bunch of her other old friends. They walked to the table and Ricky took her wrist, held it up, and yelled, “LOOK WHO’S BACK, BITCHES!”

She spent the night eating (they insisted on ordering family-style, so she couldn’t really say no to all the food in the middle of the table) and catching up and talking about outrageously strange things, like the giant rocking chair in Illinois and a giant canoe that was now sailing around the world with nothing but the stars as its guide. At the end of the meal, she still insisted that she pay her share, even though her friends pointed out that she hadn’t technically _ordered_ anything, and eventually they settled on her paying the tip (which was a lot more significant than it sounded).

When they got back to their dorm, the sun had gone down and Nina truly believed that she was going to have a great year. Her last semester spent working two jobs and hiding from her parents’ almost weekly updates still stuck in her mind, but so did her resolve. She could have a damn good time with her friends, learn everything she needed to know, and work as hard as she needed to make her hometown proud.

To make Abuela proud.

She was busy hanging stuff up in her closet when she heard a knock at the door and Ricky shouting “I got it.” The door opened and she heard conversation, though the voices were too muffled to make out. Judging by the voices, though, Ricky was talking to a man.

“NINA?” she yelled.

“YEAH?”

“THERE’S SOMEONE WHO WANTS TO SEE YOU!”

_See ME?_ She thought incredulously. “WHO?”

There was a pause and another muffled exchange.

“HIS NAME’S BENNY!”

Nina gasped and dropped the hanger she was holding, which fell to the wood floor with a clang. _It’s not BENNY Benny, is it, though?_ She picked it up and placed it hurriedly on the shelf, wiping her hands and stepping out of the closet. _It can’t be. It’s got to be someone else._

She turned the corner, peered into the doorway and froze. _It was him._

“Nina,” he breathed, almost as disbelievingly as her. Involuntarily, she took a step back, and he quickly raised his hands as if to stop her from moving. “No please don’t! Don’t go. I came here to see you, so just… hear me out.”

Ricky looked back and forth between the two of them as if watching a ping-pong game, then spoke up. “Do you know him?”

Nina barely had her wits about her to nod.

“Oh. ‘Kay, cool. Wait, he’s not…” She turned to Benny. “Are you here to, like, kidnap her or something? Should I be calling the police?”

“No, no,” Nina interjected, still staring at him. He was staring right back, a look in his eyes she wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with yet.

“That’s good, because I don’t know if I could take him on my own, and you’re a literal bump on a log at the moment, Nina, so I don’t think you’d be…” Ricky trailed off, looking between the two of them again. 

“Should I…” she jerked her thumb toward the door. When nobody answered, she cleared her throat awkwardly and scooted past Benny into the hallway. “Yeah, I’m just gonna… well, um, scream if you need me, I guess.”

She looked at Benny. “Not you. Don’t do that. That’s weird.” With that, she closed the door behind her and Nina was left in silence, staring at him. He stared back.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to ask. As if the words woke him from his reverie, he suddenly jumped up and took a step towards her, finally speaking.

“Look. I want to explain everything. I’m not gonna say sorry, because I know that’s not gonna get me anywhere. And it _shouldn’t,_ after all the shit that I did to you. But I’m here because I love you, Nina. I love you and I choose _you._ You’re more important to me than anything back home, and I really, really mean that. I just didn’t realize it soon enough, and that was stupid.”

Nina was still too shocked that he was there to even _begin_ processing his words. The only thing she could think of to say was “How did you GET here?”

“Plane. But it doesn’t matter,” Benny replied quickly. “I’m here because I need you to understand how sorr– how much you matter to me. So I’m gonna tell you why I was never there.”

“Okay?” The word came out sounding more like a question than a statement.

Benny took a deep breath. “And I should warn you, you’re not gonna believe me. I could barely believe it myself. But what I’m saying is all true.”

Nina swallowed dryly. No matter how much she told herself that she didn’t care, now that Benny was back she realized she did. A lot. She shouldn’t believe a word he was saying, but in her heart she knew she would. “Okay. Um– sit down.” She gestured to the chair at her desk.

Benny wordlessly obeyed, then looked up at her pleadingly. After a moment of silence, he began to explain.

And explain, he did. He talked about his brother, and he talked about Usnavi, and he talked about Abuela Claudia, and he talked at lengths about all the stuff he had had to do. He talked about having to keep it all a secret, even though it killed him on the inside and made him feel so horribly wrong. And the more he talked, the more Nina listened, and the more her hesitance dissolved. This was _Benny,_ the same kind, sweet Benny she’d known all her life. He was always so confident and outwardly casual, but inside he struggled with keeping everyone happy and doing whatever he could to prove that he belonged in the barrio.

“So that’s when I left,” he finished, “and came here. Because I had to tell you. I shouldn’t’ve kept it a secret in the first place.”

He may have been one of the best people, but he wasn’t the brightest guy in the neighborhood. She picked up the first thing her hands found – a paperback novel – and hit him in the head with it.

“Ow!” He exclaimed, flinching backward. “See, I _told_ you you wouldn’t believe me–”

“So you left Usnavi _alone?_ ” She asked exasperatedly, ignoring him.

He blanched. “Wait, you believe me?”

“Of course! Now answer my question!”

“Um… y-yeah? But only because I had to come here! George always told me he wasn’t in _real_ danger – well, after that thing with the plane, anyway – so between you and him there was no contest.”

Despite her still-present concern for Usnavi, the VICTIM OF A MURDER he was supposed to be protecting, her heart melted a little at his words.

“Awww, Benny.”

“Wait, so you really believe me? Just like that?”

“Of course,” she replied, smiling despite herself. “I kinda already knew.”

“WHAT.”

Nina laughed at his expression, which almost looked pissed, and elaborated. “Well, not about you. But about the agency stuff. When I was nine, I think, I remember getting suspicious because we were learning about genetics and stuff and I was beginning to realize that there was no way that my parents were my real parents. I just thought I was adopted, and they weren’t telling me, but when I was snooping around for information I came across this folder in Abuela Claudia’s room. Apparently my real parents were some sort of government officials that were murdered when I was a baby, so they moved me to the Washington Heights Project to be a Rosario.”

Benny looked like he’d seen a ghost. “You’re…”

“A victim, yeah. But don’t worry, I asked Abuela about it and she told me that my danger’s long passed. I’m still Nina. And I’m always gonna be Nina.”

“And you just _weren’t_ gonna tell me about this whole agent business.”

Nina glared at him.

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “That was stupid. Forget I said that. I don’t care about this agent business. Screw it all.”

She smiled, unable to keep herself from him any longer. “I missed you, Benny.”

He smiled and opened his arms hesitantly, and Nina nearly melted into him. Oh, how _good_ it felt to be held like that again, and feel his soft lips on her forehead, and bury her face in his chest.

His phone started to ring, and she giggled, because of course it had to. It had happened so much over the summer that she’d grown to expect it.

“Nope,” Benny murmured into her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead again. “Not this time. Not answering.”

“You _have_ to. What if it’s for Usnavi?”

“Usnavi’s fine,” he replied lightly, still holding her. “His danger's passed, too. And I like this better than answering the phone, anyway.”

She couldn’t argue with that logic.

The phone went silent before they pulled apart. Still, Benny’s hands held hers firmly, as if he was afraid to let go.

“So, where are you staying?” asked Nina.

“Um… well, I kinda just jumped on a plane and flew here and took a cab straight to Stanford. So… I haven’t figured that part out yet.”

“Oh, Benny.”

“You, um…” He flashed her his I-need-a-favor grin, and Nina rolled her eyes. “You think your roommate will let me crash here ‘til I leave?”

“When’s that?”

“Uh… when I can find a flight out of here.”

“ _Benny,_ ” she sighed, giggling.

“It was an act of LOVE!” He protested indignantly. “I didn’t have time for planning. It was sort of reckless and definitely without much common sense but it was _romantic,_ wasn’t it?”

She laughed again and rolled up to her toes to kiss him lightly on the mouth. “I’ll give you that.”

“C’mon,” he said, grinning again. “I’ll sleep on the floor. Or in the closet. Wherever lets me be close to you. Because that’s the first time you’ve kissed me in like three months and I never realized how much I missed it and now that I do, I’m not waiting three more to do it again.”

Her heart melted a little more because _she’d_ missed it, too. A whole lot more than she had convinced herself she did. She reached up and took his face in her hands. He smiled softly and brought his own hand up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek softly.

They kissed again, and this time was like the first time and all the times after that: she felt fireworks. They were exploding all around them, lighting up the world in fragments of stars. And Nina could enjoy it all safe in his arms, with the feeling of his gentle lips on hers. _This_ was what she missed. And this was well worth waiting for.

They pulled apart slowly, not wanting the feeling to end. Benny was right; there was no way she could wait a whole entire semester to do this again.

“It’s against the rules, though,” she argued weakly, her forehead still pressed against his chest.

When Benny replied, she swore she heard a smirk on his face. “Nina, you can’t play the good girl card now. I know better than that.”

“Oh, _shut up!_ ” She laughed, shoving him away playfully. He caught her, though, and spun her back into his arms.

“You’re telling me you can’t break a little rule for _this?_ ”

“It’s not a little rule. If you get caught they could kick me out of Stanford, and I _just_ got back in.”

“Fine,” Benny sighed resignedly. “I don’t want you coming back with me. I just thought I'd ask.”

“Do you need help finding a place to stay?”

“I’ll be okay, I think I’ll just go find a hotel somewhere. Something as close as I can get.”

She frowned. Hotels – and generally everything, really – were expensive in this area.

“Don’t worry,” Benny assured her, as if reading her thoughts. “I’m not the one paying for it. My fantastic, summer-ruining brother is.”

“He agreed to pay for your expenses? Well, at least he’s–”

“No, he didn’t agree. But he’s paying anyway,” Benny muttered.

Nina paused. His tone didn’t exactly indicate that he and his brother were on the best of terms. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” she asked hesitantly, a bit intimidated by the dark look he’d suddenly taken on.

“Sure. He’s loaded, and since I don’t matter all that much to him anyway, neither will my expenses.”

“Benny–”

“You weren’t there, okay? And it wasn’t your fault. But I thought I finally had my brother back and it turns out he was just using me for his stupid job. He probably had a hundred other ‘secret agents’ or whatever but he _had_ to use me and mess up my entire summer.”

“Maybe he used you because _he_ missed you, too, and having you as an agent meant that he got to talk to you.”

Benny scoffed. “Unlikely. Probably thought he could push me around easier, and save some time sending someone who _actually signed up_ for that shit.”

He was nearly spitting his words at the floor, even though he seemed more sad than angry. Nina put a hand on his arm. “Calm down. Things are better now, remember? No matter how bad you had it, it’s over. You’re here. You have me.”

He took a deep breath and gave her a halfhearted smile, though Nina could tell he wasn’t all that happy. “You’re right. I’m here because of you, not him.”

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should tell him how bad you felt. Maybe he just doesn’t know.”

“Oh, believe me, he knows,” Benny replied miserably. “I made that very clear.”

“...What did you say?”

“I may have sorta-kinda said that I didn’t want him in my life anymore.”

“ _Benny._ ”

“I know, it’s bad, okay? But there’s nothing I can do now. Whenever he tries to contact me, I know it’s just to yell at me about how bad I messed things up. I can’t even apologize because he’s probably not even gonna accept it.”

His phone pinged just then, and he checked the screen.

“Oh, great. One new message from George Washington: just so you know, Usnavi left the... barrip?”

The phone pinged again. “Oh. Barrio. He left the barrio. Well, that’s not my problem anymore, is it?” he muttered to himself, texting back a reply.

Nina sighed. The Washington siblings were NOT going to end up like the Rosario siblings, she would make sure of it. She had only recently gotten back in touch with her brother Lincoln, who was apparently doing well on his own. But before that, it was all uncomfortable radio silence. “I really think you should talk to him, Benny.”

“I will. I’m just waiting for him to cool down a little – oh, see, there he is, calling me to yell at me over the phone.”

Sure enough, Benny’s phone was ringing again. He silenced it quickly and put it back in his pocket.

She shook her head and leaned against his shoulder. “Promise me you’ll talk to him? If not now, then soon? Believe me, not being able to talk to someone you love is the worst feeling you could have.”  
“I promise,” he assured her, squeezing her hand. “I hate it, too. I’m just waiting for the right time.”

His phone pinged again and this time he ignored it.

“I love you, Nina. Even if it means nothing because I said it so much, I still do.”

“It always meant the world to me to hear you say that,” she replied. “I just stopped letting myself believe it after a while. But I love you too, Benny.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while like that. Benny’s situation with his brother still bothered her, but with him holding her like he was, it was hard to believe that any situation wouldn’t turn out for the better. They had time to figure this out. Plenty of time.

“Now let’s go get Ricky before she disassembles the common room TV again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know a Ricky
> 
> Ch. 17:  
> South Carolina Pt. 4: John vs. Inner John
> 
> AKA Henry Laurens Does The Thing Part Uno


	17. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> South Carolina Pt. 4: John vs. Inner John, alternatively titled Henry Laurens Does The Thing Part Uno
> 
> Wherein Martha is Martha, Henry Laurens makes his appearance and John's inner dialogue is a Big Mood

“John. Jooohn. Jooooohn.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and jerked awake as it shook him.

“Whozzat?”

“It’s Martha. Wake up, John.”

Blinking blearily, he sat up and glanced at his clock. Then looked at it again.

“Martha, why did you wake me up at five twenty-one in the morning?” It was still dark out, so he couldn’t see her too well. He heard her sigh, though.

“It’s the news. I’m sorry, but they wanted a short piece with you this morning.”

“They want to interview ME?”

“Yeah. And since you’ve kinda got a guest, I told ‘em you’d do it early this morning. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.”

“Sucks for you. You’re doin’ it anyway. C’mon, I’ll help you look presentable for the camera.”

John groaned as Martha took hold of his wrist and pulled (read: yanked) him out of bed and stumbled after her into the bathroom.

“Let’s get some makeup on ya. You look like you rose from the dead.”

“Makeup? I don’t want–”

He was interrupted when Martha threw a cup of water at his face. “Well, you need it. Now wash up.”

Begrudgingly, he obeyed, and afterward Martha pressed some powder on his cheeks and under his eyes. She took hold of his shoulders and spun him so that she could stare him down critically, then attacked his forehead with more of the stuff.

“Seriously?”

“If you were supposed to be a representative for the homeless, I’d lay off the powder. But you’re the senator’s son.”

“Gee, sis. Thanks.”

Underneath the sarcasm, John knew she was right. Reputation and appearance were very important to his father (one of those little things that he didn’t particularly agree with). So he shut up and let her have free reign over his face with her little poofy brushes, and then let her rummage through his drawers and pick out an outfit.

“How’s this?”

“Eugh.”

“Perfect.”

In no time, he was dressed, prepped and ready for the interview. Martha even attacked him in a futile attempt to force a comb through his tangled hair before giving up and tying it in a low ponytail. They were walking briskly down a hall to the interview room, which would take place in the downstairs study.

Everything in this room was designed the same as the upstairs study, except with rich mahogany furnishings instead of oak. A big stage-light made the entire ambience seem brighter and cheerier.

“Thanks for comin’ in,” a woman said, walking straight to them and abruptly clipping a microphone to his collared shirt. “I’m gonna be the one interviewing you today. Shouldn’t take too long, I’m just gonna ask you a couple questions, and you just answer as much as you want for each one. Go ahead and sit down and we’ll get started.”

Feeling slightly uncomfortable by being asked to sit down in his own house, he lowered himself into the chair she gestured to as she settled into one opposite him.

“Have you done an on-camera interview before?”

“Um, No?”

“That’s okay, I’ll just instruct you really quickly before we begin. Now, the camera is there–” she pointed to the cameraman, who waved– “But don’t feel obligated to look there. In fact, it’s be better if you didn’t. We’re going to do our best to just have a natural conversation. Are you ready?”

“Um, sure,” John said, rather startled by their abrupt beginning. She turned and gestured to the cameraman before facing back and giving him a smile. Behind her the camera lit up red, signaling that John was officially on-air.

“Okay, hi. I’m Erika.”

“I’m John Laurens.”

“And you are, of course, the eldest son of Senator Henry Laurens?”

“That’s me.”

“Okay, John, what do you know about your father’s illness?”

“Well…”

The interview passed in a bit of a blur as John tried to really make it look like he was sad at the state of his father. Short of actually shedding a tear, he thought he was doing pretty well.

Erika seemed to think so, too, because at one point she gave him a sad smile and reached over to pat his hand comfortingly. “You’re doing great, John. Last question: Your sister has informed me that you haven’t actually _seen_ your father yet, correct?”

“That’s correct, yes.”

“Well, what did you want to say to him when you finally do see him?”

“I mean, just… I wanted to tell him that even through everything that’s happened, he’s my dad, and I love him. And, yeah, it’s sad that this… this outcome has come to pass, but he’s done so much for me, and my family, and the whole state really, and I cannot thank him enough for everything.”

Erika nodded, smiling. “Well-said. Exactly what one would expect from the great Henry Laurens’s son. Thank you for your time, John.” She turned and signaled for the camera to be switched off before standing and shaking John’s hand.

“I appreciate you opening up to us like that. We’ll be out of your hair now. Give your father our best wishes, too.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Erika and her crew were nothing if not efficient. All their equipment and personnel were out of the study in a matter of minutes, leaving John and Martha alone.

There was a beat of silence as Martha watched them thank the servants and leave, and then:

“Did you actually mean any of what you just said?”

“Nope.”

Martha chuckled, shaking her head. “I figured as much.”

The sun was just starting to rise, and thanks to the design of the house, this study’s window was positioned to offer a full view of the lightening sky. A small smile rose to his lips as he remembered the same golden light from the previous afternoon.

“Whatcha smilin’ about there?”

“Great sunrise this mornin’.”

“Sure is.” She replied after a pause, watching the sunrise with him.

Their mom used to sit in the study all the time before breakfast and she never came out until the sky lost its rosy tint and became bright blue. John used to hate it, because the cooks wouldn’t serve breakfast until she was out. As a kid, the sun moved way too slow, but now, he could see why she always stayed to watch it. There were only so many moments like these. 

“Y’know, even though you pulled all that outta your ass, you did do well. In the interview,” Martha added after a while.

“Huh? Oh, thanks.”

“D’you think you’re actually gonna say those things when you get up there?”

“Somethin’ along those lines, yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, she shook her head and sighed, smiling.

“I still don’t know how you do it. If I went through all the shit he put you through, I don’t know what sorta stuff I’d say. I don’t know if I’d even _come_ here. To just… keep all that stuff in, and be who he wants you to be, that’s a lotta work.”

“I think I learned it from mom,” John replied. “And besides, you’d’ve done it, too. All I gotta do is smile and agree for a day, then I’m home free.”

“True.”

The sun was getting hard to look at as it rose, but he kept staring. That golden moment would only last so long before the light became bright white and blinding.

“John?”

“Hm?”

“Just… just don’t… lose yourself.”

He finally looked away to stare curiously at his sister. “What d’you mean?”

“When you’re being the man he wants you to be, don’t forget about who _you_ are. It’s great that you can keep your feelings from him. But don’t keep them from yourself.”

The way she was looking at him made John think that she wasn’t just referencing his ongoing feud with his father, but he hadn’t the faintest idea of what else it could be.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re _you,_ John, and nobody should be able to take that away from you. Don’t be afraid to be someone that dad doesn’t want you to be.”

“...Are you saying you think I should go be a doctor when dad dies?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “If that’s all you want, then go ahead. All I’m sayin’ is don’t let fear be the reason you can’t have what you want.”

“I– I won’t. Don’t worry.”

She sighed, apparently unconvinced, but changed the subject to something far less confusing.

“You left your plates in the study last night.”

“Oh, yeah – sorry, we kinda forgot about ‘em. Did you want us to go back and get ‘em?”

“No, I brought them down myself. I was just sayin’ that because I went in and I saw your picture.”

He though he did a pretty good job on outlining it, so John was confused at the embarrassment he felt. People looked at his paintings all the time, why was this one making him extremely uneasy?

“Don’t feel bad, John. It’s good. Really, really good.”

“Uh, thanks. I still gotta color it an’ stuff.”

“So y’all are goin’ back after you see dad to finish it?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“So you’re gonna fly all the way out here to sit in a room an’ draw the whole time?”

“...Pretty much.”

Martha glared at him, and he put his hands up and grinned sheepishly. She shook her head and sighed. “Fine. Let me at least take y’all out to dinner tonight. I want _some_ quality time with my brother while he’s here.”

“Thanks, Martha.”

She rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t mention it. Now you best be gettin’ over to wake up your friend for breakfast.”

John grinned – Usnavi was up at the crack of dawn every morning, and he’d be surprised if he wasn’t already in the kitchen making coffee. Or lost somewhere.

Martha paused, watching him curiously. Before he could ask her why she was looking at him like that, though, she gave him a smile and walked out, stopping just past the doorframe.

“Oh– and John?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m always here, y’know, if you wanna talk. I love you no matter who you are.”

She was giving him that cryptic look again, like she knew something that he was supposed to know, too, but he didn’t.

“Thanks, Martha.”

“With one last quick smile, she was gone. John stood for a little while by himself before making his way out to the dining room, trying to decipher her words.

_Don’t be afraid to be someone that dad doesn’t want you to be._

Sometimes it seemed as if Martha knew more about John than John knew about John. But what she had said about him, about keeping things from himself, that was just absurd. He couldn’t lie to somebody who always knew what he was thinking. And if he didn’t think about something, then it wasn’t really a part of him.

Right?

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind for more mulling over later as he saw Usnavi in the dining hall, following the cooks around. He smiled to himself as the man tried to help them prepare food, but they shook their heads and insisted that he stay out of the kitchen. Finally, Usnavi noticed John watching him and grinned sheepishly, and John felt his heart skip a beat.

Yeah. He had no idea what Martha was talking about. He was fine.

Breakfast was rather simple that morning – just bacon, eggs, and toast. And then orange juice and coffee. Then bowls of fresh-picked wild berries. John and Usnavi ate in the dining room by themselves (he wasn’t entirely sure where Martha had disappeared to), and then finally, he could stall no longer.

“Are we going to see your dad, then?” Usnavi asked him as the chefs took their plates back to the kitchen.

He sighed. “I guess.”

“Gee. Try to contain your enthusiasm there.”

John tried to look excited, but Usnavi wasn’t convinced. “How come you don’t want to see him?”

“I mean, I do, sort of. It’s just… I don’t know. You have to know him to understand.”

He nodded. “Well, let’s go meet him, then.”

Every step down that long-ass hallway filled John with more and more dread, and even Usnavi’s chatter (“did you paint this one? How ‘bout that? That one’s got turtles, I bet you did that- OH WOW, that’s a neat statue”) did little to dull his unease. Thalia the nurse was waiting for them at the end of the hall.

“Hey, master John! Great timing. Master Laurens just ate and is expectin’ you any minute.”

He gulped and turned to Usnavi, who gave him a reassuring grin.

“Go on, you’ll be fine. Do you want me to wait out here?”

“Yeah, I should- I mean, I want to talk to him a little before I introduce you. You’ll be right outside?”

“‘Course. Now go on, your dad’s waiting.”

He took a deep breath as Thalia opened the door and let them in – and then there was dad.

He was thin. _Very_ thin – thinner than John remembered. His skin, while wrinkled, hung over his bones like whatever was left in his body had wasted away to nothing. Wisps of snow-white hair clung to this scalp, the very epitome of a life hanging by a thread. Tubes and wires hung everywhere, attached to skin and poles and bags of fluid and what looked suspiciously like a sack of piss.

“Hello, Master Laurens, look who finally came to see you!” Thalia said cheerily, ushering him in, but the only thing John could feel was _repulsion._ Fuck whoever told him this would be a good idea. He wanted out. He wanted to leave and never see this wasted-away, brittle shell of his cold, life-sucking dad again.

“Good morning, Jack.” His old childhood nickname brought back so many memories, a vast majority of them unpleasant. His dad’s voice hadn’t changed a bit, and neither, he noticed, had his eyes. They were the same icy blue, cold, calculating, analyzing everything for the slightest hint of fault. John felt himself shrivel under the gaze and the voice, and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, father.” He took careful note not to drop his g’s; that was, in the words of the great senator, “what only the common folk does.”

“It is good to see you again, though Thalia here has informed me that you actually flew in yesterday.”

He looked behind him, but Thalia had already retreated back outside.

“I, um, yes, I did, but by the time we had arrived you were already asleep.”

“Hm. Well, at least you’ve come this morning. Come, sit here so I may see your face.”

He obeyed wordlessly, even though every fiber of his being pulled him away from the skeletal form lying on the bed.

“Hm.” Henry nodded his approval. “Good boy, Jack. You look very respectable. I’m glad the detestably filthy streets of that city have not tainted your sense of personal pride.”

He was, of course, talking about New York.

_Smile and nod, John. Just smile and nod._

“Of course. I’d never forget myself there, you’ve taught me better than that.”

“Good. I trust you’ve been well?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Have you found a good law firm?”

John hesitated. Of course he hadn’t found one; he hadn’t even been looking.

“It’s quite alright, Jack. I’d understand. There aren’t any respectable firms in that area, too many heads full of liberal fantasies and deluded convictions.”

_Smile. And. Nod._

“Of course, that wouldn’t be the case here. The firms are much more grounded in traditional truths. Once your infatuation with the bustling life of the North has faded and your common sense brings you back home, you’ll be hired immediately.”

_There is no way in HELL I’m ever moving back here,_ John thought.

He smiled and nodded.

His dad let out a tiny cough and excused himself. “I trust, then, that you haven’t found a wife in the city of indigents, either?”

_City of fucking WHAT, now?_

“No, father.”

“Very good. Though, Jack, you should be looking for one while you are here. I may not be alive to see him, but I still need assurance of another Laurens to carry on our honorable name.”

John couldn’t even imagine living how his father had – in fact, he was quite convinced that if he ever caught himself trapped in that lifestyle, he’d off himself on the spot.

He nodded, leaning back as inconspicuously as he could in his chair. “Don’t worry, I won’t neglect that duty.”

“Now, don’t rush. As far as sons go, I certainly could’ve gotten a lot worse, but I think the reason you are as satisfactory as you are is because you’ve had me as a mentor. Do not feel obligated to have a child until you have the maturity to raise him as I have done you.”

John was on the thin line between laughter and tears at the utter audacity of his father’s words. Only in his head, though, of course. On the outside he was smiling and nodding.

“Yes, father, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. If there is any one virtue I want to pass on before my time is up, it is my patience.”

_HAHAHAHAHA–_

“Life may be short, but you must make time for patience. Like I have done in letting you prance off to have your little adventure before you settle down back home. I knew there are some things that may only be learned by trial and error, and so I’ve learned to simply wait for your inevitable failure and assure all the questioners who are wondering about the senator’s son that you will be back with us in due time.”

John couldn’t smile and nod for very much longer all by himself. He was going to explode. “Thank you, father. I will. But – um – I brought a friend from the city that I wanted you to meet.”

“Oh? You’ve made a friend?”

_Okay, wow. Fuck you, dad._

“A couple, yeah. This one owns a corner store…” _so he’s decently respectable,_ was the implied meaning of that statement.

“A corner store.” Clearly his father was not impressed.

“Y-yeah. Um, anyway, he’s right outside. I’ll bring him in now,” he continued, retreating to the door as quickly as possible. He opened it, gesturing for Usnavi (who had been talking animatedly with Thalia) to come in.

A thought occurred to him as his friend crossed the threshold into the room: his father had met Alexander before, so he was definitely going to be confused like Martha had been this time around. He turned and opened his mouth to warn his father, but then shut it.

He was too late. Usnavi had already been seen.

And Henry Laurens looked positively _terrified._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOo0Oo000oooooo doth mine nostrils smell CoNfLiCt
> 
> Next Up: South Carolina Pt. 5, Usnavi vs. Henry Laurens


	18. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> South Carolina Pt. 4: Usnavi vs. Henry Laurens
> 
> Where secrets are finally revealed (just not the ones they thought they'd find)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You would not believe your ears  
> If I told you ten billion years  
> were spent just trying to find the word porte-cochere
> 
> Ok but seriously I spent the same amount of time writing this chapter as I did trying to find porte-cochere

As far as South Carolina went, Usnavi was 0 for 3 on first impressions.

First, there was Martha, who had pointed at him and gasped, “I thought you were dead!”

Then, there was Thalia, who saw him wander around, trip on a rug, and fall flat on his face. She had a good laugh at his expense when he’d talked to her before John called him in.

Meeting Henry Laurens, though, was by far the worst impression he’d made.

“AAAAH! BACK, BACK, YOU SPECTRAL APPARITION!”

“Father, it’s not–”

“YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!”

“Just calm down–”

“YOU HAVE COME TO DRAG ME TO THE WORLD OF THE DAMNED, BUT YOU MAY NOT TOUCH ME, FOR I HAVE NOT SINNED!”

“I’m not–”

“PROTECTING MY SON IS NO SIN!”

“ _DAD!_ This isn’t Alexander!”

“...What?”

“I’m Usnavi de la Vega,” Usnavi said, reaching out a hand. Henry Laurens visibly flinched backward, but after a moment’s hesitation, he took it. “It’s a common mistake. I’ve been told we’re identical. But it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Laurens.”

“Oh,” was all the man could respond, looking visibly shaken. But then, he gave a minute shake of his head as if to clear his thoughts, and recomposed his expression.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Mr. Del…”

“De la Vega.”

“Right. And I apologize for my initial outburst. It’s not every day you come face-to-face with the dead, you know.” He gave a small, polite chuckle.

Besides seeming a little uptight and formal, the man seemed alright. Usnavi couldn’t understand why John despised him so much. He turned to glance at him, then stared curiously.

John was looking – no, _glaring_ – at some unknown spot in the room, completely still. The only things moving were his eyes, which were twitching back and forth as if he were deep in thought. And judging by the crease of his brow, it wasn’t a very pleasant thought.

“Um, John?”

John ignored him, still staring, the crease of his brow deepening.

“Jack,” Mr. Laurens chimed in. “Are you alright?”

“What did you say?” John finally turned and faced his father, his voice barely a whisper.

“I asked if you were al–”

“No. Before that. When you were yelling.”

Usnavi looked from John to his father, who suddenly looked very afraid again.

“I… I merely called your friend here a spectral apparition, Jack, a simple mistake, seeing as he–”

“No! You said something about protectin’ me.”

“Did I?” Henry Laurens asked lightly. “I must confess, in all my hysteria I cannot recall… It must’ve been a heat-of-the-moment statement, me trying to preserve–”

“You said he couldn't drag you to hell, because protecting your… Protecting me is no sin.”

The room fell silent. Henry, despite being the smallest person in the room, somehow looked even smaller.

“What does that mean?” John finally asked, his voice quiet. Dangerously quiet.

“Exactly what it says at face value, Jack, that protecting you can never be–”

“ _Liar._ ”

Judging by the expression on Henry Lauren’s face, Usnavi could tell that John had never, ever called his father out like that before.

“You did something. To _Alexander._ That’s why you freaked out, isn’t it?”

“I don’t have the slightest–”

“You did something that made you feel so guilty that you saw _him_ –” he pointed to Usnavi– “and though he was here to punish you for it.”

“ _Absolutely_ n–”

“And you did it because you thought it would protect me. What did you do?”

“I have not–”

“ _What did you do?_ ”

“Stop interrupting your fa–”

“ANSWER ME!” John shouted, and the room fell dead silent again.

Usnavi knew that there was no way in hell that he should stick around for their conversation, but he stood frozen in place, unable to move. He was stuck staring at John’s face, which was contorted in anger. His fiery eyes were shooting daggers at Henry Laurens, who was practically squirming under the fierce glare.

Finally, the man spoke.

“John, you have to understand that I acted only to _protect_ you–”

“Did you kill him?” John growled.

“Oh, dear _God,_ no! Even if I had it in my heart to commit such a heinous crime, such a drastic move would _ruin_ the Laurens name–”

“So _what did you do?_ ”

Henry Laurens took a deep, shaky breath.

“John, when I first met Alexander, I knew instantly that he, like many others of that wretched city, was nothing but trouble. And I was proved correct almost immediately– he talked _incessantly_ about his deluded fantasies, frivolous concepts with no real basis in American ideals, and his utter _refusal_ to shed his disgustingly immature… _attraction_ –” he spit out the word like it was a bug he’d inadvertently swallowed– “to men.”

Usnavi could see John grinding his teeth in frustration as his father continued.

“To realize that these were the kinds of people that you associated yourself with up there made me positively _nauseous_ – and my primary concern was removing you from that toxic environment that was slowly but surely sucking you in. So the first chance I got, I called you back down to the Carolinas to use that military experience of yours to train a group of blacks, because I remembered you wanting to do that.”

Suddenly, there was a tugging sensation at the back of Usnavi’s mind, as well as a tiny pounding at his forehead. It was a feeling that he was beginning to recognize: familiarity. He _knew_ this story. And if the heavy feeling in his gut was any indication, he didn’t like how it was going to end.

“So you didn’t take me away so I could train my militia. You took me away because you didn’t want me _there._ ”

“E-essentially, yes. And when President Washington called me after your men were trained and requested your assistance, I knew I couldn’t let you go back and be trapped in a job there. So I, um…” he trailed off, breaking the intense eye contact with his son.

“So you _what?_ ” John demanded.

“I…” he paused and took another rattling breath, this one weaker than the one before. It seemed to Usnavi that the life was literally draining out of this man, and that he might not even reach the end of the story before all his energy was gone.

John seemed to be thinking something along the same lines, because he took two steps closer to the man and loomed over him menacingly.

“You’re not getting out of this until you tell me _exactly_ what you did.”

Henry Laurens blinked. Then blinked again. Finally, he drew another long, rattling breath and began to speak in a shaky whisper.

“I told him that you had moved to London with your wife and child.”

Usnavi had to take a step back in surprise, because that’s not where he thought that was going at _all,_ and John’s face instantly morphed into one of utter shock.

“You– you told…” Slowly, as the news sunk in, John’s face went back from blank shock to fury.

“SO ALL THIS TIME,” He shouted, “ALL MY FRIENDS STOPPED TALKING TO ME – STOPPED ACKNOWLEDGING MY EXISTENCE – BECAUSE THEY THOUGHT I WAS IN _LONDON?_ ”

“Y-yes.”

That wasn’t the end of it. Usnavi felt it in his gut. And he didn’t know why, like everything else related to his fuzzy memory, but he was absolutely certain that Henry Laurens hadn't told the whole truth. He looked at the man – not accusingly, not curiously, just a glance. But as John’s father met his gaze, something took over his eyes: _fear._ There was an animalistic terror there, like the look a mouse might have when cornered by a predator.

Cornered, he realized, by _him_.

Well, not him, exactly, but by Alexander. By someone who haunted him so much that one glance at Usnavi made him lash out in his guilt. By someone who knew that Henry Laurens was lying.

And without looking away from his captor, the man surrendered to the terror.

“Well, no.”

“What do you mean, _no_?” John nearly growled.

Henry turned from Usnavi to John, gulping and taking a raspy breath. “That’s… that’s what I told the president. To your friends, I told a different tale. I told them that… that…”

Henry Laurens was a trapped animal quickly running out of air.

“I told them that you’d been shot and killed in a training accident.”

Dead silence.

John looked like he’d actually been shot. There was not a trace of emotion on his face; not shock, not anger, _nothing._ Completely blank. He was standing stock-still, not even daring to _breathe._ Henry Laurens didn’t look much better, either. Spilling the truth seemed to suck all the energy out of him, and he lay there thin, ragged, and empty. The only indication that he was still alive was the terror in his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath caught his ear and he turned back to John, who had opened his mouth and then closed it. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he looked everywhere around the room. Usnavi could almost hear the thoughts echoing wildly around his head until finally those eyes rested upon his dad and all the movement stopped. Almost as if it were happening in slow motion, anger contorted his features and ignited his eyes. After what seemed an eternity, the wrath threatened to boil over and spill out and John took another furious breath. Usnavi looked away, bracing for an explosion.

It never came.

Instead, a sudden hand on his wrist yanked him in the other direction, and before he knew what was going on, they were bursting out of the room and storming down the hall.

~~~

The next quiet moment he got was a little while later in his room, after John practically threw him in, told him to pack everything, and slammed the door in his face.

He plopped right down onto the floor (not as if it were of any consequence, seeing as the fabric of the carpet was fancier and cleaner than 99% of the things he sat on back home), put his face in his hands, and thought.

Of course, he felt _terrible_ for John. The man had been ignored for _years_ by his friends, and all because they thought he was dead. And his father had been the one to keep that secret for him. It was a secret that he had been about to take to his _grave._ He’d be pretty pissed, too, if someone had faked his death and then hadn’t told him about it.  
But then, there was the fact that Usnavi wasn’t surprised about the news at all. In fact, he somehow KNEW that John’s friends thought he was dead.

_No, I knew that Alexander thought he was dead,_ his mind kept insisting.

The thing that eluded him was HOW he knew all this, and why. That overwhelming feeling of familiarity had hit him so many times on the trip alone that he wasn’t entirely certain that he’d never been there before.

At first, there was Martha, whose face stuck out to him in the same way that Benny’s and John’s had. And then, there was their magnificent house, which Usnavi _swore_ he must’ve seen in a dream or something, because he got serious déjà vu when he wandered through it (until he got lost, of course). And then there was that story. John Laurens, a man from South Carolina, who had a future in the President’s cabinet but was shot and killed right before they could ask him back.

_Why do I know this?_ He wondered uselessly, pressing a palm to his eyebrow as a dull pain started up there again. _Did I know these people before? Does this have something to do with Alex–_

Voices outside his door interrupted his train of thought and he jumped up, suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be packing. He grabbed his duffel bag and haphazardly threw whatever possessions he had into it, listening in on the conversation happening outside.

“John, Thalia told me you left in quite the mood this morn– what in GOD’S NAME are you doin’?” That was Martha.

“DID YOU KNOW?” John’s voice sounded hysteric, desperate – like more of a wail than a question. Usnavi’s throat tightened at the sound.

“Know what? What’s wrong?”

“He _faked my death,_ ” John’s voice rang back, on the verge of tears. “He told my friends that I was dead. DEAD!”

There was a gasp – from Martha or John, he couldn’t tell – before Martha spoke up again.

“Oh my god. No, John, I swear I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

John mumbled something back, but it was indiscernible through the door. Martha replied back softly, seemingly murmuring reassuring things. They talked some more, and while they were only soft, muffled voices, Usnavi swore he heard his name in there somewhere.

“Yeah,” John responded, suddenly a lot clearer, and then there was a knock on his door. “Usnavi? You done yet?”

“Yeah – just one second–” he dashed to the bathroom to grab his stuff and then opened the door, looking at Martha’s sympathetic face.

“I heard. Let’s get goin’, then. I’m takin’ y’all to a hotel.”

~~~

John didn’t speak the entire ride out of the neighborhood and into the country, leaving Martha and him to make awkward small talk to fill the silence.

“So how did you like the South? I trust they treated ya well?”

“Oh, yeah, everyone – um, pretty much everyone was nice. The food was great. The views were amazing.”

“That’s good. City’s great and all, but a lot o’ folks say this is a nice change of pace.”

Silence filled the car, and Usnavi couldn’t see John’s face, but he could see him bury his head in his hands.

“John?” he finally asked tentatively. Through the rearview mirror, Martha gave him a warning glance. He ignored it. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he replied shortly, pulling out his phone and busying himself on it.

“I… I know you’re–”

“ _Did I fuckin’ stutter?_ ” He snapped, and Usnavi fell silent.

There was hurt – definite hurt – masked by the anger in his voice, and he decided to drop the subject. There was nothing to do, so he occupied himself with staring out the window.

“What are you _doin’?_ ” Martha finally demanded, and his head shot back to look at her guiltily. She was addressing John, though, who hadn’t looked up from his phone screen for a long time.

“Reconnectin’,” he muttered back.

“What?”

“My friends all think I’m dead. I’m letting ‘em know that I’m _not_.”

Usnavi opened his mouth but then thought better of speaking. It was all his fault that John’s trip hadn’t ended well, and he had every right to be upset with him. He didn’t deserve to try and say something, lest he mess something else up and make things even _worse._

The rest of the ride passed by in silence and when they finally got to the hotel, Usnavi let Martha and John say their goodbyes in private by busying himself with their luggage. He waved off the bellboy, who seemed insistent on helping him - and who looked a lot like, if not identical to, one of the bus-boys at John’s manor. When he tried to get a closer look, though, the boy was gone. All the better, though. There was too much happening for him to be occupied by another mystery to figure out.

Martha offered to check them in (insisting that the bill go to her credit card) and he got to stand in a very awkward silence next to John while they waited. When she finally got back, John walked off, mumbling something about having to use the bathroom.

Which left Usnavi sadly watching him go and Martha next to him.

“Well, it was nice meetin’ ya, Usnavi,” she spoke up hesitantly. “Though I wish it coulda been under better circumstances.”

He offered a smile in return. “Nice meeting you too, Martha. And thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then hugged him tightly. Usnavi was a bit surprised, but considering how stressful the situation was, he was glad for the emotional release. He returned the embrace warmly.

Before she broke away, Martha whispered something in his ear:

“Take care of him for me.”

“I will.”

She stepped back to grin at him, and there was a look in her eyes he couldn’t quite understand when she said, “I know.”

With a final small wave to him and to John, who came walking back at that time, she was back in her car and quickly shrinking as she headed down the road.

Usnavi turned to John and felt his heart ache as he saw the look in his eyes. There was so much pain there. It was stronger than the anger, which was quickly fizzling out, leaving him small and fragile and vulnerable.

John’s face was built for smiles, and twinkling eyes, and gleeful laughter. It was made to hold that intense look he got when he was drawing, or to exude that brilliant expression of wonder he took on when he watched the sun sink over golden grass. It was NOT made for _this;_ this pain and hurt and betrayal had no right to be where it was.

_Take care of him for me._

For a second, Usnavi feared he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring the peace back to his eyes. John was caught in the middle of a raging storm, and Usnavi wasn’t very good with those.

But for John?

He _had_ to try.

“John, I know you’re mad, but–”

He was stopped by the other man giving a minute shake of his head. John Laurens closed his eyes slowly and then looked up at the ceiling of the hotel’s porte-cochere, as if the very _sky_ had betrayed him somehow. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard and rough, like he had been scraped raw and left to dry out in the sun.

“Let’s just go.”

~~~

They unpacked silently, each staying on their half of the room. Usnavi snuck glances at John, but every time he did the other man was dead-set on whatever task he was doing at the moment. Eventually, he stopped looking over and occupied himself busily with folding his clean clothes.

And that’s when he heard the sob.

John had sat down on his bed, and he was facing the other way so Usnavi couldn’t see his face, but he could see his shoulders quivering. Then all of a sudden, he seemed to collapse in on himself, burying his face in his hands as choked gasps escaped his mouth.

“Oh, no, John,” Usnavi whispered, getting up and walking quickly over to him. He put a hand on his back and John curled up tighter into a ball.

He sat down next to him and pulled him onto his lap, and the man began to let the sobs go freely, burying his face in Usnavi’s chest. Usnavi held him tighter and stroked his hair, murmuring whatever reassurances came to mind. John kept going, quivering as shuddering breaths wracked his chest and angrily wiping tears away as they came.

“John, I’m so sorry–”

“He killed me,” John managed to choke out, clutching Usnavi’s shirt with both hands. “ _Killed me._ All that shit I did for him and he just-” His voice broke and the sentence dissolved into shuddering breaths. Usnavi felt a lump form in his own throat at the manic, almost unhinged tone in his voice.

“It’s bad,” he agreed shakily, rubbing circles into John’s back. “I know, it sucks. But it’s over now. You know, he knows, it’s all gonna get better now. And I’m sure he feels horrible too. Everyone makes mistakes–”

“ _No,_ ” John cut in, shaking his head madly. “No, this wasn’t a _fuckin’-_ ” a breath- “a mistake. He knew- he _knew_ I’d-” he broke off again and clenched fistfuls of Usnavi’s shirt even tighter.

Usnavi shook his head gently, giving John’s forearms a comforting squeeze. “You don’t know that. People always do things they regret-”

“I _know_ him!” John cried angrily, pushing him away and staring him straight in the eye. “You don’t! Not everyone is- is good, and nice- not everyone is all happy on the inside, like you think. He’s- he’s a _shitty_ person and a _shitty_ dad an- and you can’t _fuckin’_ defend him-”

John turned away and buried his face in his hands, trying furiously to hold back more sobs and failing.

“No, I’m sorry—” Usnavi started, leaning over and wrapping an arm around him again. John shrugged him off and Usnavi felt his heart sink. “I wasn’t defending him,” he continued hurriedly. “I- I didn’t mean it like that. He’s a bad man, I just thought… you know what? I shouldn’t talk. You’re right. I don’t know him at all.”

The two fell into silence, punctuated only by John’s continued sniffles. The man still couldn’t look Usnavi in the eye, but after a long while seemed to calm down a bit, staring at his hands in his lap.

The worst part about it was that he didn’t even look pained anymore. There was no trace of emotion on his tear-stained face — his expression was empty, apathetic. It was as if the news of his fake-death had sucked the actual life out of him.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, and his voice was just as hollow as his look.

“That’s where he gets you.”

Usnavi waited for him to continue. John seemed to wait another eternity before he did, wiping tears off his cheeks and then curling up to hug his knees.

“He doesn’t let you get to know him. Makes this air of superiority with his voice, and his manners, lets you think that he knows best just because he looks down on everyone. Treats you decently, stoops just low enough so you think he actually cares. And then he just—” John shook his head, the tears welling up in his eyes again— “he turns on you so fast you don’t even know it happened.”

Usnavi nodded, hesitantly scooting closer to him. He stiffened, but didn’t move away; a promising sign, probably.

“That’s horrible, John. You deserved so much better. You, and- and everyone else that thought you died, they just… well we know now. And we’re all on your side.”

John finally looked at him, his expression one Usnavi couldn’t really decipher. He stared for a long time, though, and finally leaned over and rested his head against Usnavi’s shoulder.

Usnavi put an arm around him and John leaned in further, uncurling and wrapping his arms around Usnavi’s chest. Fresh tears started up again, but Usnavi held him tightly through it. They were less angry tears now, just sad; and John never let go of him even after his breath finally evened out. Usnavi remained wordless until the shadows on the floor began to creep up the wall and he knew John had calmed down considerably.

“I’m still sorry,” he started quietly, his one-armed hug around the other man still firm. “For sounding like I was defending your dad. I really didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright,” John sighed. “Even good people do that. I still don’t know how he gets them all on his side—”

“No, it’s not about him. It’s my fault he even told you in the first place. If I hadn’t offered to go up and see him then he wouldn’t’ve said all that stuff about- about Alexander, and—”

John detached himself from Usnavi and sat up straight to look him in the eye.

“You think I can blame you for that? Usnavi, you’re the reason I know why all of my friends suddenly stopped talking to me. I felt like a piece of shit all that time, thinkin’ I did somethin’ wrong. Now I know better, and I know who the real shitbag is. I’m not mad at you. I could _never_ be mad at you for that.”

“Still,” Usnavi argued weakly, looking down at his feet. “You could’ve said good-bye in peace, and figured it out afterward-”

“Usnavi, look at me.”

He obeyed, a little unnerved at the fire in John’s eyes. It wasn’t anger, it was something… different. More focused. Less manic.

“Henry Laurens wouldn’t have let that secret out. He would’ve taken it to his _grave,_ and let me think I was a loser for the rest of my life. Without battin’ an eye, he would’ve died in peace. Now he can’t do that, and he’s gotta live the rest of his days exposed as the fraud he is. He’ll die in shame, thanks to you.”

“Well when you put it that way,” Usnavi muttered. John shook his head, still staring at him intently.

“He doesn’t deserve to die peacefully. He deserves to suffer, he deserves to go to _hell_ for all the shit that he did and–”

He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. Usnavi didn’t know at exactly what point John had looked away, but suddenly he was behind his wall of anger again.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh? You ever think one day you’ll look back and–”

“ _No._ You haven’t put up with him as long as I have. He didn’t force-feed all his shitty ideas down your throat, making you swallow ‘em down no matter how _sick_ they made you feel. I’m not mad at you, but believe me, I’m absolutely CERTAIN that he doesn’t deserve to die happy.”

Usnavi decided to let the matter drop. John wasn’t mad at him, and he wasn’t exactly whole and healed, but Usnavi wasn’t about to push his luck. He would have to cool down eventually.

“Well, sorry anyway.”

“Enough of that. Let’s talk about somethin’ else.”

“...okay. How ‘bout the damn bellboy that I swear followed us from your house?”

“Wait, what? Which one?”

“Come with me to the lobby. I’ll point him out.”

The rest of the day passed slowly, seeing as they couldn’t really leave the hotel without a car. They walked down to the lobby and Usnavi pointed out the bellboy (“Oh my gosh, yeah, that’s the new one that came up to us in the study!”). He noticed and smiled politely, explaining he was a government worker in charge of protecting the senator’s son and his guest (and not to tell anybody because he was supposed to be working undercover).

"More secrets. I can't even be surprised," John had said dully.

“I’m sorry, you weren't supposed to know, but after the sudden change of plans, it was hard to stay under the radar. And I probably wasn’t that good of a bus-boy, either. We were a little short-staffed and so I was the only one that could take the case.”

“I didn’t know senator’s sons were such important people to the government?”

“You said that very loudly, Mr. De La Vega.”

“Shit, sorry.”

“Yeah, Usnavi. Shut up or you might get me killed for real.”

Upon ensuring him they were safe, the two went back up to the room and stayed there until the light fell on the city, chatting intermittently about small stuff like New York and how Benny was doing in California.

“You really think she forgave him?” John asked.

“Definitely. Dude, she’s been in love with him for as long as I can remember. Abuela Claudia used to tell me that when they were young, she used to follow him around like Luigi follows Super Mario.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Yeah. Benny was friends with her older brother, so she was with them all the time.”

“Nina had an older brother?”

“Yeah, Lincoln. I never met him, Abuela told me that he dropped out of high school and moved out, and he hasn’t come back since.”

They talked about a lot of things, but Usnavi made sure to steer clear of the topic of their visit. That is, until he glanced out of their window. The room offered a positively stunning view of a brick garden wall, but it was more the orange light filtering in from the top that caught his attention.

“You never finished that drawing, did you?”

Usnavi said a lot of things without thinking, and that was no exception. Instantly John closed off again and busied himself with his hands.

“No. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Usnavi replied lightly, mentally kicking himself. “I guess it was just an in-the-moment thing.”

“Yeah,” John agreed, sighing. “A good moment.”

There was a heavy pause.

“And God knows there aren’t many of those ‘round there.”

After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Usnavi changed the subject to something safer, and just like that, John was back.

“Well how d’you think the bodega’s gonna be when we get back?”

“Who’d you leave in charge of it again?”

“Sonny.”

“ _Sonny?_ ”

“I really had no other choice.”

“Well… I reckon it’s still gotta be in one piece, at least.”

“Sure, but probably covered in graffiti. And with no inventory left.”

“You think they ate everything in just forty-eight hours?”

“ _Those_ two? Definitely. Unless all they did the whole time was–”

An… _image_ of Sonny and Pete popped into his head and he shook it vigorously to get it out. Damn his uncontrollable running mouth. “Eugh. No. GOD, why did I say that.”

John laughed a little at that, but then he paused. Slowly, the smile faded from his face and he looked like he was thinking intently. Subconsciously he mouthed a silent ‘oh’.

“What is it?”

He was stuck in his head for another couple seconds before he blinked in surprise and looked back at Usnavi.

“Um– ah… nothing. I gotta talk to my sister.”

He whipped out his phone and was typing quickly before Usnavi even registered his words.

“Did you forget something?”

“No, I just–” he trailed off to read his phone and sent another text in reply.

“I just needed to tell her something. She asked… she asked about it before I left and I just figured it out.”

He waited while John sent a couple more texts. Suddenly, he glanced up at Usnavi, bit his lip, and looked back down to send another message.

“Wait, are you talking about ME?” he asked indignantly, getting up and trying to read over John’s shoulder, but John just spun around on the bed and didn’t let him see the screen.

“No. Well... No.” He didn’t look up.

“What does _that_ mean? What are you saying?”

He looked up, looked back at his phone screen, and looked up again. Finally he took a deep breath and put it down.

“So I may or may not be kinda gay.”

Usnavi hadn’t been expecting to hear anything, but if he _had,_ it was CERTAINLY not that. He felt himself freeze as he fumbled for something to say, but his brain came across nothing.

John kept going, looking a little panicked by the silence. “I mean it’s not may or may not. That wasn’t right. I _know_ I am. And not– not kinda gay. Like, all of it. It just came out–” he sighed shortly. “–I’m gay.”

“You’re gay,” Usnavi repeated like an idiot.

John gave a small nod, unsmiling and now looking a little scared. “Is that… okay?”

_Okay?_

This freckled, sweet, funny, brave, talented, passionate, beautiful man was into guys?

And USNAVI was a guy?

He was fucking _thrilled._

His chances had just increased tenfold. Of course, zero times ten was still zero. But that was besides the point. It was the times ten that mattered.

“Usnavi?”

John was still looking at him. _Just don’t freak out,_ Usnavi thought frantically. _Play it cool._

“‘Course I’m cool with it, man, what kinda hypocrite would I be if I wasn’t?”

John’s face eased into a smile. And when he smiled, naturally, so did Usnavi. They sat there grinning at each other, and John let out a short, nervous laugh before he spoke again.

“You didn’t _seem_ very cool with it.”

“I was just disappointed,” he lied, “Because I owe Vanessa ten bucks.”

“You were betting on ME?”

Usnavi nodded, grinning. The sentence was more or less true. After what she had called ‘careful experimentation’ (which was essentially relentless flirting in the bodega), Vanessa had concluded that there was no way John was into girls. Usnavi teased her that maybe she was losing her touch. Turns out, it was just him being wrong _again._

“Jesus Christ. Was it THAT obvious?”

“I mean, _I_ didn’t think so.”

“But even my _sister_ knew, and she GREW UP HERE! Listen to this. I told her I was gay and she says ‘fuckin’ finally figured it out, my god’.”

Usnavi laughed pretty hard at Martha Laurens saying something like that, and after a while, so did John. Slowly, though, his smile faded.

“Can’t believe it took me so long to figure out.”

Usnavi could tell exactly where that thought path led: straight back to the Laurens manor and his dad. He quickly searched for the right words to pull him out of it.

“No, it’s okay. It took me a while, too – actually, it only happened when I got drunk one night playing truth or dare.”

“Seriously?” Success. His smile was back.

“You wanna hear the story?”

“Is that even a question?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Usnavi recounting his coming-out story and John trying to suppress his giggles while ordering room service for dinner. Their flight was early the next morning, so they wordlessly agreed to turn in early after packing up and stealing those little shampoo bottles from the shower.

He could tell John wasn’t back to normal, but if he followed the tacit agreement not to bring up his dad, he would be okay, at least.

They avoided it all the way up to the next morning right as they sat down on the plane (much to Usnavi’s dismay, they didn’t get window seats again) and John’s phone buzzed. As soon as he read it, his face darkened. Usnavi couldn’t help himself; he read over John’s shoulder as he replied.

**MarthaMarthaMartha**  
_Received:_ He passed last night.  
_Sent:_ about goddamn time

He turned his phone off and shoved it in his pocket, turning away and looking down the aisle.

“I can’t wait to get home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K but everyone here knows how Hamilton goes so how much of a surprise was that really lol
> 
> Up Next: We Can Stay Finale: John's Actions have Consequences  
> Like seriously all of his actions  
> Like you might wanna *wink* look back *wink* at some things he did *wink* since he showed up *winks with both eyes*


	19. Aaron Burr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An on-time chapter update? Wow? What is this
> 
> Anyways here's the WE CAN STAY FINALE: John's actions have consequences

“Aaron Burr, sir.”

Aaron Burr chuckled and pressed a kiss to his daughter’s mass of curly hair, grabbing one of her chubby hands in his unoccupied one.

“Way to sound it out, Theo. But you see this S-R-period?” He pointed to the gold placard with her hand in his.

“That means _senior_. Sir is something different.”

“Aaron Burr, senior,” she amended.

“Yep, that’s your grandaddy.”

She giggled and it sounded like sunshine audiated. “He looks young.”

Aaron Burr gazed at the portrait of his father and the gold placard that spelled out his name beneath it. It had just been moved to its new home in his hallway and he was still getting used to seeing the face every night as he carried his dear Theodosia to bed.

“He does, doesn’t he? He looks like me.”

She giggled again and he could’ve sworn the room brightened.

“You’re Aaron Burr JUNIOR, daddy.”

“That’s right. Just like you’re Theodosia junior.”

They continued down the hall and passed another painting. Theo’s head was hanging over his shoulder, and as she passed it, she reached out a little arm and whispered, “goodnight, mommy.”

Aaron stopped and looked back at the portrait of Theodosia senior. A small lump settled in the back of his throat like it always did when she saw her likeness captured at the peak of her beautiful youth.

“She said goodnight to you, Theo. Did you hear her?”

She cocked her head, listening hard.

“No, I can’t!”

“Because you’ve got to listen from here—” he poked a finger at her heart— “and not from here.” He stuck the finger in her ear and she squealed, erupting into another fit of giggles. “Stop— I’m— gonna— tickle you!”

“Alright,” Burr said, chuckling as her arms flailed against his chest. “I’ll stop. You have to get to bed. I don’t want you to be tired when we go to the zoo tomorrow.”

“Ooooh! Are we gonna see the giraffe?”

“Yes. And the elephants, and the monkeys, and the zebras,” he replied, carrying her to her room and setting her down on the purple sheets. He grabbed the matching purple stuffed animal and put it on her chest, watching her arms curl around it protectively.

“And this one, too. What’s this one called?”

“Hippo-potatamus!” she cried victoriously, raising it above her head.

He chuckled again, pulling the covers over her and tucking her in gently. “That’s right,” said Burr, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Now, let’s see what’s next in store for our friend Harry Potter, shall we?”

He grabbed the thick book from her bookshelf and flipped to the purple sparkly bookmark, and as soon as he sat down Theo wriggled herself to be close to him and cuddled up with her hippo-potatamus.

She always stayed awake right to the end of the chapter to hear what happened before turning over and settling in, and tonight was no exception. He gave her another quick kiss on her curly hair before turning off her lamp and retreating to the hall, leaving her bedroom door open just a crack.

On the way back down he stopped at Theodosia’s portrait again.

Except for her eyes, little Theo got nearly all her features from her mother: the soft, curly hair, the wild grin, and the high cheekbones still partially hidden by her baby fat.

“Am I doing a good job with her?” he whispered, gazing up at his wife’s smiling face.

Theodosia had gotten sick and passed four years ago, leaving him to care for an infant of her same name all by himself. Little Theo was four now, and she was at a fifth-grade reading level and spoke pretty eloquently for her age, but to Burr there was always something missing for her. He tried so hard to give her everything she ever needed, he really did. But there’s only so much a single parent can do on his own. And a mother’s love is irreplaceable.

He traced her name placard with his index finger, silently asking her, like he always did, for her help.

_My Theodosia. I miss you so, so much. Please, please come back to us. Even if I never get to see you again, come back for little Theo. Let her feel your embrace just one last time._

Sighing, he continued down the hall. He finally made his way to his own bedroom and curled up under the blankets, screwing shut his eyes and trying to silence his mind. It didn’t happen often, but sometimes he’d be able to drift off peacefully and wake up relatively unperturbed.

As hard as he tired to fight it, tonight would not be one of those nights.

He rolled over and the benign rustle of sheets turned into that horrible, horrible scream in his head.

First it was Eliza screaming ‘no!’ in that terrible shriek as Burr took aim at Philip sleeping in his cot. That, of course, morphed into the wails of the little boy, barely a year older than little Theo had been. The worst part about the whole thing was that Eliza had been calmly composed as she faced down the barrel of his pistol that night. It was only when he turned to Philip instead that her face contorted into unspeakable, haunting horror.

The voices grew in a dreadful crescendo. Philip transformed like a monster into that terrible gasp Alexander let out right before Burr swung that bat at his head, and the small whimpering of the team of agents he’d aimed at. That Reynolds girl was facing him when he walked in, and her voice cut through the others, whispering frantically into the phone. As he raised the gun to her head she’d begun to whisper faster and faster, her voice getting higher and more terrified and she was practically crying out her last words—

He sat up gasping as the gunshots rang out in his head and the sickening thud of bodies falling echoed all around him.

Death always took them the same way. Innocent or guilty, the strength left all their bodies at the same chillingly swift speed. They all fell to the ground with the same limpness, like a ragdoll being thrown at a wall. Eliza, Maria, the rest of that team, Philip, Alexander. He never watched them, of course. He’d shoot and look away. He couldn’t bear to see the light leave their eyes. Still, he heard them. The final thud as they hit the ground was tangibly finite. Sometimes he swore he heart their last breaths being forced out while they fell.

At least he hadn’t had to watch death in that final explosion, where Alexander finally went up in flames. It was easier just knowing that bomb in the plane had gone off. There were no screams. There were no bodies. None that he heard, anyway.

He forced his breathing to slow, screwing his palms into his eyes to block out the images. He had to admit, things were getting marginally easier now. The past was behind him, getting further and further away every day.

Alexander was dead. Nobody else had to be hurt. He’d gotten away with it safely. And he could do everything in his power for his Theo without anything — or anybody — getting in his way again.

That didn’t make the screaming stop, though. Nothing did. It would be back soon.

He pushed himself off the bed, standing feebly on shaking legs for a bit before attempting to walk. When he reached for the door handle, his wedding ring caught the streetlight outside and he realized his hands were shaking.

As quietly as he could, he padded down the hall back to Theo’s room and peeked in. The little girl was sound asleep, snoring slightly as her tiny form rose and fell in rhythm with her breathing.

_Good,_ he assured himself. _She won’t wake anytime soon._

He backed down the hallway again silently, making sure his shadow was well out of her doorframe before turning and walking the rest of the way to the living room.

Their little apartment had a connected living room and kitchen by the front door, and as he walked to the fridge, he could see the New Jersey skyline through the window. Usually the view was calming. He and Theo used to stand at that window and he would point out all the buildings for her to remember. Theo, being the brilliant little girl she was, would say them back to him the next time they looked out.

Tonight, the view only worsened his melancholy as he looked away and opened the fridge. Its little light illuminated the room a bit as he stopped.

He always paused here, thinking of how Theo constantly blew him away, of how much she was going to do with the world when it was her time. 

_Am I the father she needs to be that girl? What I’m doing, right now, is that what she needs? Is that what she deserves?_

He looked at his hand, poised to reach into the fridge. It was still shaking. He could still feel his heart pounding, his stomach rolling uneasily.

The ghosts of more screams echoed in his head, threatening to grow and consume him again. 

_Theo is sound asleep, and she will be until morning. She won’t have to know. You can be the father she needs in the morning._

Swallowing uneasily, he reached into the fridge, grabbed the black flask in the back, and shut the door.

~~~

Burr sat on the couch in silence, occasionally taking swigs of alcohol when the need arose. After a while, his head began to get uncomfortably light and fuzzy, but at least his nerves were settling.

The quiet was getting thicker and thicker, bordering on suffocating. He sighed audibly just to dissipate it, but soon it was upon him again as if he hadn’t made a sound at all; as if he’d never known anything but silence.

It was almost worse than the screaming.

Almost. There was no pain in silence, but there was no life, either. Just… nothing. Burr was left at the mercy of his own mind. Perhaps some people welcomed silence, and relished the free reign of their thoughts. Not Burr. His were thoughts that too often turned against him.

He took another swig and reached for the TV remote. Theo wouldn’t hear it from her room; he’d made sure of that fact a couple of months ago. He’d also positioned the TV so the light wouldn’t spill into the hallway when it was on.

The only show on at that hour was the national newscast re-run from earlier that evening, unless he felt like watching a cartoon moose sleep soundly on Theo’s educational channel. Sometimes the political segments were a little hard to watch without being unpleasantly reminded of past events, but that night there were none.

He felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as the newscaster droned on, and was quite relieved to embrace the evasive call of sleep. His phone alarm would wake him from his pocket before Theo stirred and he would compose himself, as per usual, before daylight streamed through the window.

A news story called him back from half-consciousness and he opened his eyes, listening intently.

“... and some sad news from downtown, as Senator Henry Laurens passed away last night in his sleep. Laurens was seventy-four years old and bedridden with kidney problems, and recently moved from Safe Harbor hospice back to his manor in Mepkin to live out the rest of his days…”

Burr had known the name Laurens, but exactly how, he wasn’t sure.

_Laurens, Laurens…_ He searched his mind for the man, but his thoughts were flowing a little slower and heavier than usual.

The TV continued on, listing Henry Laurens’s various accolades and achievements before the story switched to a view of his house and the anchor continued: “We got to hear from many of his friends and family who’ve come to visit him over this past week to say their goodbyes.” The scene cut to a man sitting in what looked like a library, and it clicked.

_John Laurens. That’s right, I worked with Henry Laurens’s son. No. Did I work for him, or did I fight in the war with him?_

“...and yeah, it’s sad that this… this outcome has come to pass, but he’s done so much for me, and my family, and the whole state, really, and I cannot thank him enough for everything.”

Hearing John speak sparked the memory. They’d fought together a long time ago. Though he had no personal vendetta against the man, he remembered him well because he’d been Alexander’s best friend.

_Wait._

It may have just been his addled mind, but he swore John died after the war.

He looked at the screen again — no, that was definitely the same man. Perhaps he was just getting confused with the story. Something about it tugged at the back of his mind, though, as if just thinking of the possibility made him more and more certain that it had actually happened. Finally, he pulled out his phone, opening Facebook. There was no harm in checking it out, if only to quell his curiosity.

After a few moments of searching, he came upon the page of one John Laurens with a profile photo indicating he had the right man. His latest status update read: “Great news. I’m not fucking dead.”

Well, that was a strange coincidence. Had Burr not been the only one to have had that conviction? Perhaps he’d been mistaken for his dad by various people on the internet. Intrigued, he scrolled down. It was slightly concerning that John Laurens had not said a single thing about his father in any of his posts — more intriguing still that all of the recent ones seemed to be on the subject of his non-death, mentioning various other people. Besides that, there were a couple of updates about planes and such, a picture of a turtle, and some video uploaded with the caption “what REALLY goes on at work.” The thumbnail showed a boy, maybe in his late teens, in some sort of grocery store. He was poised to launch an object in his hand. Out of curiosity, he pressed play. The boy launched what appeared to be a chip bag across the room, and the camera followed until it bounced off another man who flinched away and grabbed for his own—

Burr gasped and dropped his phone. It landed face-down on the couch, but its image remained burned into his eyelids. That face — that _man_ —

No. It couldn’t be. He was a spot of pink mist floating in the air over the Atlantic Ocean. Aaron himself had pressed that button to detonate the bomb. He’d seen footage of the wrecked plane on the same news that was on now.

His hands were shaking again as he reached for his phone. The video had played through and was back to the start. He _had_ to have been seeing things — he pressed play again, and watched without breath as the boy launched the bag of chips through the store.

It hit the man. He paused it quickly.

“Alexander,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

There he was, in flesh and blood, having twice defied death. He had the same face, same fiery eyes, same defiant stance. He remembered the alias they gave him at the agency that Burr was now on the run from: Usnavi de la Vega, of the Washington Heights Project.

He checked the video again. The timestamp indicated that he was supposed to have been dead. He scrolled up again frantically to a post John had made about his home: “This three story manor in South Carolina is nothing compared to my shitty apartment in Washington Heights.”

His blood ran cold. Alexander was alive. Again. Neither a blow to the head nor a bomb in his chair could kill the man that kept tearing apart everything he tried to create for himself and his daughter.

Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system, but the fear of this man back from the dead was almost instantaneously dissolved by anger.

No, _rage._

As quietly as he could, so as to not wake Theo, he turned off the TV and slipped outside with his phone. The streets were rather busy for such a late hour, which served Burr’s purpose well. As soon as he was out of earshot from the building, he found his contact and pressed his phone to his ear.

It picked up on the second ring. “Burr?” A voice asked drowsily.

“I though you sent me the wrecked plane footage,” he hissed. “I thought you said Alexander was dead.”

“Wh-what? I _did_ send you the—”

“Alexander is ALIVE, and he’s still living in that neighborhood in New York!”

“Are you sure?”

“YES!” Burr had to restrain himself from yelling, pacing back and forth on the dimly lit sidewalk.

“So what do you want—”

“I want you to go in there, find the man, and—”

“Sir, they’re still on heightened surveillance from our first entry.”

“I don’t care. Blend in. Don’t you have connections in the area?”

“Ain’t connections no more.”

“Well, make new ones. I need you in the streets so you can get to him without being caught. When you’re in, get him out of there, and—”

“Kill him forreal this time. Got it.”

“No,” Burr said, gritting his teeth. “You take him to me. This man has denied me for far, far too long. I’ll take care of him myself.”

After a pause, his man — for risk of capture, Burr knew him only as M — responded.

“You want me to kidnap this guy and take him all the way to New Jersey?”

“No, I’m coming down there. Get in, give me a date for his pickup, and deliver him to me.”

“And you’ll gimme what I’m due.”

“If I get him, then yes.”

“Alright.”

“And M.”

“Hm?”

Burr took a deep breath, his hand tightening around the phone.

“Do not fail me this time, at all costs. This man has to die.”

He pressed ‘end’ and the line clicked dead.

Burr walked back inside, picked up the black flask, and gulped the rest of it down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliiiiiiiiiff Hanger  
> Hanging from a cliff  
> And that's why he's called Cliff Hanger
> 
> ...And there we have it! We Can Stay is officially _terminado!_ Obviously the series is not finished so stick around for the final part (or next part? Idk I'm still undecided) coming sometime soon!!!
> 
> ILY ALL AND THANKS FOR READING


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